LIBRARY 

tTNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


•  •' 
5> 


THE 

MERRY  CHANTER 


BY 
FRANK  R.  STOCKTON 

AUTHOR  OF  "RUDDER  GRANGE,"  "THE  LADY,  OR 
THE  TIGER?  "  "  THE  LATE  MRS.  NULL,"  "  THE  CASTING 
AWAY  OF  MRS.  LECKS  AND  MRS.  ALE  SHINE,"  ETC. 


THE  CENTURY  CO. 

NEW-YORK 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


COPVKIGHT,  1889, 1890, 
BY  FRANK  R.  STOCKTON. 

A II  rights  reserved 


THE  DEVINNE  PRESS. 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER 


MY  CAREER  IS  ENDED 


F 


\OR  two  years  Doris  and  I  had  been 
engaged  to  be  married.  The  first 
of  these  years  appeared  to  us  about 
as  long  as  any  ordinary  year,  but  the 
second  seemed  to  stretch  itself  out 
to  the  length  of  fifteen  or  even  eight 
een  months.  There  had  been  many 
delays  and  disappointments  in  that 
year. 

We  were  both  young  enough  to 
wait  and  both  old  enough  to  know 
we  ought  to  wait;    and   so  we 
waited.     But,   as  we   frequently 
admitted  to  ourselves,  there  was 

Captain  Timon  Mucher. 

nothing  particularly  jolly  in  this 
condition  of  things.  Every  young  man  should  have 
sufficient  respect  for  himself  to  make  him  hesitate 


2  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

before  entering  into  a  matrimonial  alliance  in  which 
he  would  have  to  be  supported  by  his  wife.  This 
would  have  been  the  case  had  Doris  and  I  married 
within  those  two  years. 

I  am  by  profession  an  analyzer  of  lava.  Having 
been  from  my  boyhood  an  enthusiastic  student  of 
mineralogy  and  geology,  I  gradually  became  con 
vinced  that  there  was  no  reason  why  precious  metals 
and  precious  stones  should  not  be  found  at  spots  on 
the  earth  where  nature  herself  attended  to  the  work 
ing  of  her  own  mines.  That  is  to  say  that  I  can  see 
no  reason  why  a  volcano  should  not  exist  at  a  spot 
where  there  were  valuable  mineral  deposits ;  and  this 
being  the  case,  there  is  no  reason  why  those  deposits 
should  not  be  thrown  out  during  eruptions  in  a 
melted  form,  or  unmelted  and  mixed  with  the  ordi 
nary  lava. 

Hoping  to  find  proof  of  the  correctness  of  my  the 
ory,  I  have  analyzed  lava  from  a  great  many  vol 
canoes.  I  have  not  been  able  to  afford  to  travel 
much,  but  specimens  have  been  sent  to  me  from  va 
rious  parts  of  the  world.  My  attention  was  particu 
larly  turned  to  extinct  volcanoes ;  for  should  I  find 
traces  of  precious  deposits  in  the  lava  of  one  of  these, 
not  only  could  its  old  lava  beds  be  worked,  but  by 
artificial  means  eruptions  of  a  minor  order  might  be 
produced,  and  fresher  and  possibly  richer  material 
might  be  thrown  out. 

But  I  had  not  yet  received  any  specimen  of  lava 
which  encouraged  me  to  begin  workings  in  the  vicin 
ity  in  which  it  was  found. 

My  theories  met  with  little  favor  from  other  scient- 


THE    MEliltY   CHANTER.  3 

ists,  but  this  did  not  discourage  me.  Should  success 
come  it  would  be  very  great. 

Doris  had  expectations  which  she  sometimes 
thought  might  reasonably  be  considered  great  ones, 
but  her  actual  income  was  small.  She  had  now  no 
immediate  family,  and  for  some  years  lived  with  what 
she  called  "  law  kin."  She  was  of  a  most  independent 
turn  of  mind,  and  being  of  age  could  do  what  she 
pleased  with  her  own  whenever  it  should  come  to  her. 

My  own  income  was  extremely  limited,  and  what 
my  actual  necessities  allowed  me  to  spare  from  it  was 
devoted  to  the  collection  of  the  specimens  on  the 
study  of  which  I  based  the  hopes  of  my  fortunes. 

In  regard  to  our  future  alliance,  Doris  depended 
mainly  upon  her  expectations,  and  she  did  not  hesi 
tate,  upon  occasion,  frankly  and  plainly  to  tell  me 
so.  Naturally  I  objected  to  such  dependence,  and 
anxiously  looked  forward  to  the  day  when  a  little 
lump  of  lava  might  open  before  me  a  golden  future 
which  I  might  honorably  ask  any  woman  to  share. 
But  I  do  not  believe  that  anything  I  said  upon  this 
subject  influenced  the  ideas  of  Doris. 

The  lady  of  my  love  was  a  handsome  girl,  quick  and 
active  of  mind  and  body,  nearly  always  of  a  lively 
mood,  and  sometimes  decidedly  gay.  She  had  seen  a 
good  deal  of  the  world  and  the  people  in  it,  and  was 
"up/'  as  she  put  it,  in  a  great  many  things.  More 
over,  she  declared  that  she  had  "  a  heart  for  any  fate." 
It  has  sometimes  occurred  to  me  that  this  remark 
would  better  be  deferred  until  the  heart  and  the  fate 
had  had  an  opportunity  of  becoming  acquainted  with 
each  other. 


4  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

We  lived  not  far  apart  in  a  New  England  town,  and 
calling  upon  her  one  evening  I  was  surprised  to  find 
the  lively  Doris  in  tears.  Her  tears  were  not  violent, 
however,  and  she  quickly  dried  them ;  and,  without 
waiting  for  any  inquiries  on  my  part,  she  informed 
me  of  the  cause  of  her  trouble. 

"  The  Merry  Chanter  has  come  in,"  she  said. 

"  Come  in  ! "  I  ejaculated. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  and  that  is  not  the  worst  of 
it  j  it  has  been  in  a  long  time." 

I  knew  all  about  the  Merry  Chanter.  This  was  a 
ship.  It  was  her  ship  which  was  to  come  in.  Years 
ago  this  ship  had  been  freighted  with  the  ventures  of 
her  family,  and  had  sailed  for  far-off  seas.  The  re 
sults  of  those  ventures,  together  with  the  ship  itself, 
now  belonged  to  Doris.  They  were  her  expectations. 

"  But  why  does  this  grieve  you? "  I  asked.  "  Why 
do  you  say  that  the  coming  of  the  ship,  to  which  you 
have  been  looking  forward  with  so  much  ardor,  is  not 
the  worst  of  it  ?  " 

"  Because  it  is  n't,"  she  answered.  fl  The  rest  is  a 
great  deal  worse.  The  whole  affair  is  a  doleful  fail 
ure.  I  had  a  letter  to-day  from  Mooseley,  a  little  town 
on  the  sea-coast.  The  Merry  Chanter  came  back 
there  three  years  ago  with  nothing  in  it.  What  has 
become  of  what  it  carried  out,  or  what  it  ought  to 
have  brought  back,  nobody  seems  to  know.  The 
captain  and  the  crew  left  it  the  day  after  its  arrival 
at  Mooseley.  Why  they  went  away,  or  what  they 
took  with  them,  I  have  not  heard,  but  a  man  named 
Asa  Cantling  writes  me  that  the  Merry  Chanter  has 
been  lying  at  his  wharf  for  three  years;  that  he 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER.  5 

wants  to  be  paid  the  wharfage  that  is  due  him ;  and 
that  for  a  long  time  he  has  been  trying  to  find  out  to 
whom  the  ship  belongs.  At  last  he  has  discovered 
that  I  am  the  sole  owner,  and  he  sends  to  me  his  bill 
for  wharfage,  stating  that  he  believes  it  now  amounts 
to  more  than  the  vessel  is  worth." 

"  Absurd ! "  I  cried.  "Any  vessel  must  be  worth 
more  than  its  wharfage  rates  for  three  years.  This 
man  must  be  imposing  upon  you." 

Doris  did  not  answer.  She  was  looking  drearily 
out  of  the  window  at  the  moonlighted  landscape. 
Her  heart  and  her  fate  had  come  together,  and  they 
did  not  appear  to  suit  each  other. 

I  sat  silent,  also,  reflecting.  I  looked  at  the  bill 
which  she  had  handed  to  me,  and  then  I  reflected 
again,  gazing  out  of  the  window  at  the  moonlighted 
landscape. 

It  so  happened  that  I  then  had  on  hand  a  sum  of 
money  equal  to  the  amount  of  this  bill,  which  amount 
was  made  up  not  only  of  wharfage  rates,  but  of  other 
expenses  connected  with  the  long  stay  of  the  vessel 
at  Asa  Cantling's  wharf. 

My  little  store  of  money  was  the  result  of  months 
of  savings  and  a  good  deal  of  personal  self-denial. 
Every  cent  of  it  had  its  mission  in  one  part  of  the 
world  or  another.  It  was  intended  solely  to  carry  on 
the  work  of  my  life,  my  battle  for  fortune.  It  was  to 
show  me,  in  a  wider  and  more  thorough  manner  than 
had  ever  been  possible  before,  what  chance  there  was 
for  my  finding  the  key  which  should  unlock  for  me 
the  treasures  in  the  store-house  of  the  earth. 

I  thought  for  a  few  minutes  longer,  and  then  I  said, 


6  THE    MERRY   CHANTER. 

"  Doris,  if  you  should  pay  this  bill  and  redeem  the 
vessel,  what  good  would  you  gain  ? " 

She  turned  quickly  towards  me.  "  I  should  gain  a 
great  deal  of  good/7  she  said.  "  In  the  first  place  I 
should  be  relieved  of  a  soul-chilling  debt.  Is  n't  that 
a  good?  And  of  a  debt,  too,  which  grows  heavier 
every  day.  Mr.  Cantling  writes  that  it  will  be  diffi 
cult  to  sell  the  ship,  for  it  is  not  the  sort  that  the  peo 
ple  thereabout  want.  And  if  he  breaks  it  up  he  will 
not  get  half  the  amount  of  his  bill.  And  so  there  it 
must  stay,  piling  wharfage  on  wharfage,  and  all  sorts 
of  other  expenses  on  those  that  have  gone  before, 
until  I  become  the  leading  woman  bankrupt  of  the 
world.'7 

"  But  if  you  paid  the  money  and  took  the  ship,"  I 
asked,  u  what  would  you  do  with  it  ?  " 

"I  know  exactly  what  I  would  do  with  it,"  said 
Doris.  "  It  is  my  inheritance,  and  I  would  take  that 
ship  and  make  our  fortunes.  I  would  begin  in  a 
humble  way  just  as  people  begin  in  other  businesses. 
I  would  carry  hay,  codfish,  ice,  anything,  from  one 
port  to  another.  And  when  I  had  made  a  little 
money  in  this  way  I  would  sail  away  to  the  Orient 
and  come  back  loaded  with  rich  stuffs  and  spices." 

"Did  the  people  who  sailed  the  ship  before  do  that!" 
I  asked. 

"  I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt  of  it,"  she  answered  ; 
"and  they  ran  away  with  the  proceeds.  I  do  not 
know  that  you  can  feel  as  I  do,"  she  continued.  "  The 
Merry  Chanter  is  mine.  It  is  my  all.  For  years  I 
have  looked  forward  to  what  it  might  bring  me.  It 
has  brought  me  nothing  but  a  debt,  but  I  feel  that  it 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER.  7 

can  be  made  to  do  better  than  that,  and  my  soul  is  on 
fire  k>  make  it  do  better." 

It  is  not  difficult  to  agree  with  a  girl  who  looks  as 
this  one  looked  and  who  speaks  as  this  one  spoke. 

"  Doris,"  I  exclaimed,  "  if  you  go  into  that  sort  of 
thing  I  go  with  you.  I  will  set  the  Merry  Chanter 
free." 

"  How  can  you  do  it  ? "  she  cried. 

"  Doris,"  I  said,  "  hear  me.  Let  us  be  cool  and  prac 
tical." 

"  I  think  neither  of  us  is  very  cool,"  she  said,  "  and 
perhaps  not  very  practical.  But  go  on." 

"I  can  pay  this  bill,"  I  said,  "but  in  doing  it  I 
shall  abandon  all  hope  of  continuing  what  I  have 
chosen  as  my  life  work;  the  career  which  I  have 
marked  out  for  myself  will  be  ended.  Would  you  ad 
vise  me  to  do  this  ?  And  if  I  did  it  would  you  marry 
me  now  with  nothing  to  rely  upon  but  our  little  in 
comes  and  what  we  could  make  from  your  ship? 
Now,  do  not  be  hasty.  Think  seriously,  and  tell  me 
what  you  would  advise  me  to  do." 

She  answered  instantly,  "  Take  me,  and  the  Merry 
Chanter." 

I  gave  up  my  career. 


II 


SHE   IS   HE,   AND   IT  IS   OURS 


MAN  and  wife  stood  upon  Asa 
Cantling's  wharf  at  Mooseley,  gaz 
ing  with  wide-open  eyes  at  the 
Merry  Chanter.  All  claims  had  been 
paid.  The  receipt  was  in  my 
pocket. 

"  I  will  not  look  upon  the  ship/'  Doris  had  said, 
"  until  it  is  truly  ours  ;  until  every  taint  of  debt  shall 
have  been  wiped  away." 

How  long,  how  high,  how  big  it  was  !  It  had  two 
towering  masts.  As  I  gazed  upon  it  my  heart  swelled. 
It  was  a  career  ! 

Doris  suddenly  seized  me  by  the  hand.     "  Come," 
she  said,  "  there  he  is  !  " 
"  Who  ?  "  I  exclaimed. 

"The  Merry  Chanter  himself  !"  she  cried,  running 
with  me  towards  the  bow  of  the  vessel,  which  on  our 
first  approach  had  been  concealed  from  us  by  a  pile 
of  barrels. 

We  went  upon  the  narrow  space  between  the  bar 
rels  and  the  wharf  and  stood  close  to  the  Merry 
Chanter,  the  wooden  figure-head,- which  gave  the  name 
to  the  ship. 


THE    MEEEY   CHANTER.  9 

He  was  a  stalwart  fellow  eight  feet  high,  and  so 
firmly  fastened  to  the  bow  of  the  vessel  that  the  waves 
of  the  sea  and  the  winds  of  the  air  had  never  been 
able  to  move  him.  But  long  voyages  in  storms,  in 
glowing  heat,  or  in  icy  spray  had  had  an  effect  on  his 
physical  organization.  When  young  he  had  probably 
been  of  pleasing  colors,  but  now  every  trace  of  paint 
had  vanished  j  even  the  mahogany  brownness  of  his 
nose  and  cheeks  was  probably  due  to  the  natural 
hue  of  the  wood  of  which  his  head  was  formed. 
The  rest  of  him  was  of  a  uniform  weather-beaten 
grayness. 

The  rest  of  him  must  be  understood  to  mean  what 
remained  of  him ;  the  whole  of  his  original  self  was 
not  there.  His  head  was  thrown  back ;  his  long  hair 
hung  upon  his  shoulders  ;  and  his  mouth  was  open,  as 
if  in  the  act  of  trolling  out  some  jolly  sea  song.  His 
right  arm  had  been  stretched  out  after  the  manner  of 
one  who  is  moved  by  the  spirit  of  the  words  he  sings, 
but  the  greater  part  of  that  arm  was  now  gone.  Some 
wild,  rollicking  wave  had  rushed  to  meet  him,  taken 
him  by  the  hand,  and  gone  off  with  his  arm. 

His  other  arm  held  a  short  cloak  about  him  and 
still  remained  entire,  but  he  had  no  feet  and  one  of 
his  knees  had  been  knocked  away,  but  still  he  stood 
up,  bold  and  stout,  chanting  his  brave  roundelays, 
which  one  could  hear  only  when  waves  were  tossing 
or  winds  roaring.  What  if  his  nose  was  split,  his  chin 
dented,  and  his  beard  broken  —  the  spirit  of  the  Merry 
Chanter  was  still  there. 

How  many  a  wave  crest  must  have  swashed  into 
that  open  mouth  as  the  chanter  boldly  chanted,  and 


10  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

the  ship  plunged!  But  how  merrily  he  had  risen, 
all  dripping,  and  had  sang  on ! 

The  eyes  of  Doris  were  glowing  as  she  looked  upon 
him.  "  He  shall  lead  us  to  fortune/7  she  said,  taking 
my  hand.  "  Shall  he  not  T 

The  spirit  of  the  chanter  and  of  Doris  was  upon 
me.  "  Indeed  he  shall !  "  I  answered,  warmly. 

Asa  Cantling,  or  as  he  was  called  in  the  village, 
Captain  Asa,  now  came  upon  the  wharf  and  asked  us 
if  we  would  like  to  go  on  board.  Like  to  !  Of  course 
we  would !  To  go  on  board  was  the  dominant  pur 
pose  of  our  souls. 

Captain  Asa  was  an  oldish  man,  but  reaching  up  to 
some  iron  bars  which  projected  from  the  vessel  he 
clambered  up  her  side  with  the  monkey-like  agility 
which  belongs  to  a  sailor.  In  a  few  minutes  he  low 
ered  a  ladder  with  a  hand-rail,  by  which  Doris  and  I 
went  on  board. 

"  She  's  a  good  schooner  yet,"  said  Captain  Asa, 
as  with  swelling  hearts  we  stood  upon  our  deck. 
"  She  's  too  big  for  us,  but  she  's  got  good  timbers 
in  her ;  an'  if  you  '11  have  her  towed  to  New  Bed 
ford,  or  Gloucester,  or  some  such  port,  I  don't  doubt 
you  'd  get  more  for  her  than  you  ?ve  paid." 

I  looked  at  Doris.  Her  eyes  flashed,  and  her 
nostrils  dilated,  but  she  made  no  answer  to  these 
cold-blooded  words.  We  walked  the  length  of  our 
deck.  How  long  it  was !  Captain  Asa  pointed  out 
the  various  objects  of  interest  as  we  passed  them  — 
windlass,  galley,  capstan,  wheel;  all  nautical,  real, 
and  ours ! 

"  I  Ve  kept  the  hatches  down,"  said  Captain  Asa, 


THE    MEREY    CHANTEE.  11 

"skylights  shut,  an'  everything  stowed  away  ship 
shape*  I  'd  ask  you  to  go  below,  but  we  must  come 
again  for  that.7' 

Almost  with  one  voice  we  besought  the  captain  not 
to  let  us  keep  him  a  moment  from  his  dinner.  We 
would  remain  on  board  a  little  longer.  We  were  not 
ready  for  our  dinner.  We  watched  him  as  he  went 
down  the  ladder  and  into  the  village,  and  then  we  sat 
down  on  a  double-pointed  log  that  was  bolted  to  the 
deck.  The  bulwarks  were  so  high  that  we  could  not 
be  seen. 

We  did  not  sit  long.  Up  sprang  Doris.  "  Let  us 
go  below ! "  she  cried.  I  followed  her,  and  after  enter 
ing  the  cook's  galley  by  mistake,  we  found  the  door 
at  the  head  of  the  stairs  which  led  below,  and  hurried 
down. 

The  air  below  was  close,  and  the  ship's  smells  were 
of  an  old  and  seasoned  sort;  but  everything  was  ex 
citingly  interesting.  We  ran  from  one  end  to  the 
other  of  this  lower  deck.  We  looked  into  what  must 
have  been  the  captain's  cabin.  It  was  cozy  to  an 
extreme  that  made  Doris  clap  her  hands.  We  looked 
into  the  sailors'  bunks.  We  looked  at  the  great 
masts  which  came  from  below  and  went  up  above  — 
our  masts ! 

We  examined  everything  forward,  amidships,  and 
aft,  and  then  I  lifted  a  hatch  and  we  looked  down 
into  the  dark  depths  of  the  hold.  We  could  not  see 
much  and  did  not  dare  to  descend  without  a  light, 
but  the  cool  air  which  came  up  to  us  smelled  as  if  all 
the  odors  of  Araby  and  the  spicy  East  had  been 
tarred  and  salted  and  stowed  away  down  there. 


12  THE    MERRY   CHANTER. 

When  at  last  we  ascended  to  the  deck  Doris  stood 
still  and  looked  about  her.  Her  face  and  eyes  shone 
with  a  happy  glow.  Stretching  out  her  right  arm  she 
exclaimed:  "All  hail  to  our  Merry  Chanter!  We 
shall  sail  in  him  to  the  sunny  seas  of  the  south, 
and,  if  we  feel  like  it,  steer  him  into  the  frozen  mys 
teries  of  the  north.  He  shall  give  us  fortune,  and, 
what  is  better  still,  we  shall  go  with  him  wherever  he 
goes,  getting  all  manner  of  fun  and  delight  out  of  him 
while  he  is  lifting  us  to  opulence.  And  now  I  think 
it  must  be  a  good  deal  past  our  dinner-time,  and  we  'd 
better  go  and  see  about  it." 

As  we  walked  through  the  village  to  the  little  hotel 
where  we  had  taken  lodgings,  two  ideas  revolved 
themselves  in  my  mind.  The  first  of  these  I  men 
tioned  to  my  wife. 

u  Doris,"  said  I,  "  as  we  own  a  ship,  and  intend  to 
sail  on  it,  we  should  be  more  nautical,  at  least  in  our 
speech.  You  should  not  speak  of  a  ship  as  'he'; 
*  she '  is  the  proper  expression." 

"  I  don't  agree  with  you,*'  said  Doris.  "  I  think  it  is 
all  nonsense  calling  ships  '  she '  without  regard  to 
their  real  gender.  It  is  all  very  well  to  call  the  Sarah 
Penrose  l  she,'  or  the  Alice,  or  the  Mary  H.," —  point 
ing  to  fishing  vessels  in  the  little  harbor, — "  but  when 
you  speak  of  the  Royal  George  or  the  Emperor  Will 
iam  as  'she'  it  is  silly  and  absurd.  The  Merry 
Chanter  is  a  man.  He  gave  his  manly  name  to  our 
ship.  Our  ship  is  not  a  female." 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  every  sailor  calls  his  ship  l  she.'  It 
is  tradition,  it  is  custom,  in  fact  it  has  become  law." 

"  It  is  all  stuff  and  nonsense,"  she  said.    "  I  don't 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER.  13 

care  a  snap  for  such  tradition  and  such  law  !  Sailors 
ought  to"have  learned  better  by  this  time.'7 

"  But  you  don't  want  to  be  laughed  at,  do  you  ? "  I 
asked. 

"  No,  I  don't,"  she  answered  promptly.  "  We  can 
not  have  proper  authority  in  our  ship  if  we  are 
laughed  at,  and  I  will  do  this :  I  will  consent  to  call 
the  ship  i  it;'  but  I  will  never  consent  to  call  it  '  she/  " 

And  with  these  words  we  entered  the  hotel. 

The  other  idea  which  entered  my  mind  was  a  more 
important  one.  I  had  noticed,  especially  when  we 
were  on  board  the  ship,  that  Doris  was  taking  the  lead 
in  everything.  It  was  she  who  had  declared  what  we 
should  do,  where  we  should  go,  that  one  thing  should 
be  done  or  another  left  undone.  Now  this  was  all 
wrong.  It  was  a  blow  at  the  just  constitution  of 
matrimony.  Of  course,  in  these  early  days  of  our 
married  life  I  was  glad  to  let  my  bride  talk  and  plan 
as  she  pleased ;  but  she  was  going  too  far.  If  this 
thing  were  allowed  to  continue  it  would  become  a 
habit. 

What  step  I  should  take  to  nip  in  the  bud  this  little 
weed  which  might  grow  until  it  overshadowed  our 
happiness  I  could  not  immediately  determine.  It 
must  be  a  quick,  vigorous,  and  decided  step.  It  must 
settle  the  matter  once  and  for  all  time.  Of  course 
I  would  be  tender,  but  I  must  be  firm.  As  soon  as 
possible  I  would  decide  what  the  step  should  be. 

That  afternoon  we  went  to  see  Captain  Asa  to  ask 
him  what  sort  of  marine  traffic  he  thought  we  would 
better  begin  with. 

"  You  see,"  said  Doris,  "  we  want  to  engage  in  some 
2 


14  THE    MERET   GRANTEE. 

coastwise  trading,  in  order  that  our  profits  may  en 
able  us  to  set  out  upon  longer  and  more  important 
voyages." 

"  Tha,t  is  the  state  of  the  case,"  said  I.  "  My  wife 
agrees  with  me  entirely." 

"  Now,  what  shall  we  load  with  first,"  said  Doris, 
"  hay,  fish,  or  ice  ?  " 

Captain  Asa  smiled.  u  As  for  fish,"  he,  said,  "  our 
own  boats  bring  in  all  the  fish  that  can  be  turned  into 
money  in  this  town,  an'  if  we  send  away  any  they  've 
got  to  get  to  market  while  they  are  fresh,  an'  it  may 
be  the  railroad  '11  get  'em  there  quicker.  An'  as  for 
hay,  we  don't  get  much  hay  from  along  the  coast  — 
that  is,  if  we  want  the  cattle  to  eat  it.  That  gener 
ally  comes  from  the  West,  by  rail.  Ice  ?  Well,  this 
is  n't  the  season  to  ship  ice." 

"  But  there  must  be  other  things,"  said  Doris,  anx 
iously. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  captain,  "  there  is.  Now  I  '11  tell  you 
what  would  n't  be  a  bad  thing.  Sail  your  vessel  up 
to  Boston  an'  get  a  load  of  flour.  You  can  afford  to 
bring  it  down  cheaper  than  the  railroad  can.  There  'd 
be  some  took  in  this  town.  I  'd  take  a  barrel.  An7 
a  good  deal  might  be  sold  along  the  coast  if  you  put 
it  cheap  enough.  Then,  again,  when  you  get  to  Bos 
ton  you  may  have  the  good  luck  to  sell  your  vessel." 

"  The  Merry  Chanter  is  not  to  be  sold,"  said  Doris, 
emphatically. 

"  All  right,"  said  the  captain.  "  That  point  shaVt 
be  touched  upon  ag'in.  Well,  if  you  're  goin'  to  set 
out  on  trading  v'yages,  you  '11  want  a  crew." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  of  course  we  shall  want  a  crew." 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  15 

"  A  crew  costs  a  good  deal,  does  n't  it?"  asked  Doris. 

"  That  depends,"  said  Captain  Asa,  "  on  the  kind  of 
crew  you  get.  Now  an  out-and-out  crew  for  that 
schooner  — " 

"But  we  don't  want  an  out-and-out  crew,"  inter 
rupted  Doris ;  "  and  if  you  711  tell  us  what  such  a  crew 
will  cost  it  will  simply  drive  us  stark  mad,  and  the 
whole  thing  will  come  to  an  end." 

"  You  must  understand,  Captain,"  I  said,  "  that  we 
wish  to  make  a  very  quiet  and  inexpensive  beginning. 
We  can  spend  but  little  money  at  first,  and  cannot 
afford  to  employ  large  bodies  of  men." 

"  It  is  the  management  of  sails  that  occupies  a  good 
deal  of  the  time  of  a  crew,  is  n't  it?"  asked  Doris. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  captain.  "That  ?s  a  good 
part  of  it," 

"Well,  then,"  continued  Doris,  "my  idea  is  this: 
we  '11  sail  the  Merry  Chanter  at  first  with  as  few  sails 
as  possible,  and  then  we  need  only  have  enough  men 
to  work  those  sails." 

"  All  right  i "  said  the  captain.  "  Things  can  often 
be  done  one  way  as  well  as  another  if  you  have  a 
mind  to.  There  's  many  a  good  ship  been  sailed 
short-handed.  You  can't  make  quick  voyages  that 
way;  but  as  you  are  the  owners,  that's  your  busi 
ness." 

We  both  agreed  that  we  had  no  intention  at  pres 
ent  of  making  the  Merry  Chanter  a  greyhound  of  the 
sea;  and,  after  some  further  consideration  of  the 
subject,  Captain  Asa  said  he  would  talk  to  some  peo 
ple  in  the  town  and  see  what  he  could  do  toward 
getting  us  a  crew  of  the  sort  we  wanted. 


Ill 


WE    SHIP  A   CREW 

|ARLY  the  next  morning  an  elderly 
personage  introduced  himself  as 
Captain  Timon  Mucher.  He  was  a 
man  of  medium  height,  gray  hairs, 
and  a  little  bowed  by  years  j  but  he 
had  sharp  bright  eyes,  and  a  general 
air  of  being  able  to  jump  about  a  yard  from  the 
floor.  His  storm-beaten  features  were  infused  with 
a  modest  kindliness  which  instantly  attracted  Doris 
and  me. 

"  Cap'n  Cantliny  said  he,  "  told  me  that  you  're 
lookin'  for  a  crew  for  that  schooner  o7  yourn.  Now, 
sir,  if  you  ?re  agreeable,  I  >d  like  to  go  in  her  as  skip 
per.  Everybody  in  this  town  knows  what  sort  o?  a 
skipper  I  am,  and  they  '11  tell  you.  I  did  think  I  >d 
about  give  up  navigatin',  but  when  I  heerd  yesterday 
that  that  schooner  that 's  been  lying  so  long  at  Cant- 
lin's  wharf  was  goin'  to  sea,  there  come  over  me  the 
same  kind  of  hanker  for  outside  rollin'  and  pitchin' 
that  I  used  to  have  when  I  happened  to  be  ashore 
without  a  ship.  I  Ve  got  a  good  cat-rigged  fishin'- 
boat  and  I  go  out  in  her  every  day  that  ?s  fit.  And 
there  is  times  when  I  get  a  good  deal  of  outside 
pitchin'  and  rollin'.  But  pitchin'  and  rollin'  in  a  cat- 

16 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  17 

boat  is  n't  what  a  man  that  's  been  brought  up  to  the 
sea  lays  awake  more  'n  half  an  hour  and  hankers  for. 
If  there  had  n't  been  no  schooner  goin'  to  sail  from 
this  port  and  wantin'  hands  I  guess  I  'd  stuck  pretty 
quiet  to  the  cat-boat ;  but  now  there  is  a  schooner 
sailin'  from  here  and  wantin'  hands  I  'd  like  to  go  in 
her  as  skipper." 

Doris  and  I  looked  at  each  other,  and  then  at  the 
old  man.  Instinctively  we  both  stretched  out  our 
hands  to  him.  He  was  captain  of  the  Merry  Chanter. 

It  was  plain  enough  that  Captain  Timon  Mucher 
was  delighted  with  our  decision. 

"Well,  now,"  said  he,  "it  just  tickles  me  to  sail 
with  owners  like  you,  who  knows  your  own  minds 
and  settles  a  bargain  as  quick  as  a  squall  tips  over  a 
sail-boat  full  of  young  fellers  from  town." 

I  did  not  like  to  break  in  on  the  old  man's  satisfac 
tion,  but  I  felt  bound  to  state  that  the  bargain  was 
not  yet  completed. 

"  Bother  bargains !  "  said  Doris.  "  "We  're  going  to 
have  the  captain  anyway  !  Did  n't  we  say  so  ?  " 

"But  it  is  possible,"  said  I,  "that  he  may  expect 
a  —  a  salary  larger  than  we  can  afford  to  pay." 

"  As  to  that,"  said  Captain  Timon,  "  there  need  n't 
be  no  words  about  that;  I  '11  go  sheers  with  you, 
if  you  like." 

This  was  reasonable,  and  pleased  the  owners.  We 
were  very  willing  to  give  him  part  of  the  profits. 

"  What  share  would  you  require  ? "  I  asked. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "we  can  divide  what  we  make 
each  v'yage  into  six  parts,  and  I  '11  take  one  of  'em. 
Does  that  strike  you  as  fair?" 


18  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

It  struck  us  as  quite  fair. 

We  now  had  a  long  talk  with  our  captain  and  got 
all  sorts  of  information.  At  length  he  left  us;  but 
in  about  an  hour  he,  with  Captain  Asa,  came  just  as 
we  were  about  to  start  out  for  the  wharf,  and 
brought  with  them  three  elderly  men,  evidently  of 
the  seafaring  class.  These  were  presented  to  us  as 
Captain  Retire  Garnish,  Captain  Jabez  Teel,  and 
Captain  Cyrus  Bodship. 

The  three  stranger  captains  gravely  came  forward 
and  shook  hands  with  us.  As  I  have  said,  they  were 
all  elderly  men ;  the  youngest-looking  of  them,  Cap 
tain  Cyrus  Bodship,  must  have  been  sixty.  Strange 
to  say,  my  wife  and  I  were  both  struck  by  a  certain 
similarity  in  these  men,  a  sort  of  family  likeness. 
This  must  have  been  due  to  the  fact,  Doris  after 
wards  remarked,  that  they  were  all  sons  of  Mother 
Ocean,  for,  in  fact,  they  were  not  at  all  alike.  Cap 
tain  Garnish  was  large  and  tall,  Captain  Teel  was  of 
a  sparish  figure,  while  Captain  Cyrus  Bodship  was 
short,  and  inclined  to  be  stout. 

In  one  respect  they  were  alike;  each  wore  a  very 
large  and  stiffly  starched  shirt-bosom  with  a  black 
silk  neckerchief,  and  each  one  looked  uncomfortable 
in  his  suit  of  Sunday  clothes.  In  this  respect  Cap 
tain  Cyrus  Bodship  had  a  slight  advantage  over  his 
companions,  for  he  had  on  a  pair  of  black  velvet 
slippers  embroidered  with  red. 

"  These  gentlemen/7  said  Captain  Asa,  "  would  like 
to  ship  as  your  crew." 

Doris  and  I  could  not  help  smiling.  "  Crew  ?  "  said 
I.  "  I  thought  they  were  all  captains." 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER.  19 

"  So  they  are.  so  they  are,"  said  Captain  Asa.  "  But 
they  can  speak  for  themselves." 

We  now  all  seated  ourselves  in  the  little  parlor, 
and  Captain  Garnish,  without  any  hesitation,  began 
to  speak  for  himself. 

u  As  for  me,  I  'm  a  captain  if  ever  anybody  was 
one.  Since  my  thirty-second  year  I  've  been  skipper 
on  one  craft  or  another  till  four  years  ago  last  April 
I  settled  down  here  and  took  to  fishin'.  That 's  my 
history.  When  I  heard  that  Cap'n  Timon  here  was 
goin'  to  be  skipper  of  your  schooner  I  says  to  myself : 
1 1 'd  like  to  sail  with  him.  There  ain't  nothin'  about 
a  ship  I  don't  know,  there  ain't  iiothin'  about  a  ship 
I  can't  do.  I  'd  rather  go  to  sea  than  fish,  and  I  'm 
ready  to  sign  the  papers."7 

"  All  that  7s  about  the  same  with  me,"  said  Captain 
Jabez  Teelj  "only  I  did  n't  get  to  be  captain  till 
I  was  thirty-eight,  and  I  came  here  nigh  on  to  five 
years  ago.  Otherwise  Cap'n  Garnish  and  me  is  in 
the  same  boat,  and  I  'm  ready  to  sign  papers." 

Captain  Cyrus  sat  silent  a  moment  with  a  jolly 
sort  of  grin  on  his  face.  "  I  've  been  tryin'  to  think 
what  year  it  was  I  was  fust  made  captain,  but  it  ?s 
too  fur  back;  I  can't  put  my  finger  on  it.  As  for 
other  partic'lars  I  'm  pretty  much  in  the  wake  of 
Cap'n  Garnish  and  Cap'n  Teel  here.  Perhaps  1 7m  a 
good  ways  astern,  but  I  ?m  younger  than  they  is,  and 
may  overhaul  'em  yit.  I  'm  ready  to  sign  papers." 

The  situation  was  interesting  and  amusing.  "  Do 
you  mean  to  say,"  I  asked,  "  that  you  three  will  make 
a  sufficient  crew  for  our  vessel  ? " 

Captain  Timon  immediately  spoke  up.     "  Yes,  sir. 


20  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

They  are  all  the  crew  I  want.  With  them  three  I  '11 
sail  your  schooner,  and  there  won't  be  no  complaint. 
Yes,  sir;  that  's  what  I  say." 

Engaging  three  old  men  as  our  crew  seemed  to  us 
a  serious  matter,  and  I  asked  Captain  Asa  to  step  with 
me  into  a  back  room.  Doris  followed. 

"Do  you  really  think,"  I  asked  the  captain,  "that 
these  three  men  can  work  our  ship  ? " 

"  Of  course  they  can  do  it,"  said  he.  "  Each  one  of 
'em  is  worth  three  ordinary  seamen;  they  've  got 
heads  on  'em,  they  has!  An'  they  're  as  lively  as 
old  cats,  besides.  Now  there  7s  Cap'n  Garnish.  He  's 
sailed  vessels  on  every  sea  on  this  globe.  He  's  the 
man  that  run  his  vessel  —  a  three-masted  schooner 
she  was  —  from  the  Straits  of  Malacca  to  Madras, 
nigh  on  to  fifteen  hundred  miles,  on  one  tack  with 
a  stiff  nor'-easter,  an'  a  hole  in  her  starboard  quarter 
as  big  as  that  table.  There  wa'  n't  no  time  to  have 
his  ship  docked  if  he  wanted  to  save  his  cargo,  an' 
a  hole  like  that  could  n't  be  patched  up  by  him 
an'  his  crew.  And  so  twenty  minutes  after  he  was 
run  into  he  set  every  inch  of  canvas  there  was  a  spar 
for,  an'  drove  her  right  slam  across  the  Bay  of  Ben 
gal,  with  her  lee  scuppers  mostly  takin'  in  water,  but 
her  weather-quarter  with  the  hole  in  it  high  an  dry. 
"When  he  came  into  port  at  Madras  they  would  n't 
believe  that  he  'd  raced  across  the  bay,  with  his  ship 
stove  in  like  that." 

Doris  had  listened  with  admiration.  "  But  could  he 
do  that  now  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Do  it  ? "  said  Captain  Asa.  "  Of  course  he  could ! 
He  could  do  it  with  a  hole  twice  as  big !  An'  there  7s 


THE    MEEPY   CHANTER.  21 

Cap'n  Teel,77  he  continued.  "He  was  friz  up  two 
years  in  Melville  Straits  when  he  was  commandin7  of 
a  whaler  •  an7,  more  7n  that,  he  has  had  his  ships 
wrecked  under  him  eleven  times,  which  is  four  more 
than  anybody  in  this  State  can  say  j  an*  he  an7  his 
crew  came  out  all  right  every  time,  either  trampin7 
off  on  shore  or  bein7  picked  up.  What  he  has  n7t  been 
through  is  n7t  worth  goin7  through ! 

"An7  there  7s  Cap7n  Cyrus.  Now  Cap7n  Cyrus  is 
the  luckiest  seaman  that  ever  sat  on  a  thwart.  He 
never  had  nothin7  happen  to  him.  He  7d  always 
run  into  his  home  port  with  the  same  old  grin  that 
he  set  sail  with.  Once,  bound  to  Australia, —  I  think 
it  was  in  759, —  he  had  his  three  top-gallant  masts 
blowed  away  by  a  typhoon.  Now,  Cap7n  Cyrus  said  to 
himself  that  he  guessed  he  7d  got  it  this  time,  an7 
that  he  7d  be  long  overdue  at  port,  for  he  did  n7t 
carry  no  spare  spars  along,  havin7  got  out  o7  the  way 
of  carryin7  7em  on  account  of  his  bein7  so  lucky  an7 
never  havin7  no  need  of  7em;  but  this  did  n't  make 
him  feel  grumpy,  for,  as  he  said  to  himself,  a  little 
change  would  do  him  good.  But,  would  you  believe  it? 
when  he  anchored  at  an  island  to  take  in  fresh  water, 
he  went  on  shore  himself,  an',  climbin7  a  little  hill, 
he  saw,  on  the  other  side  of  the  island,  another  ship 
takin'  in  water,  an'  the  skipper  was  his  wife's  cousin, 
Andrew  Tinkey,  with  plenty  of  spare  spars  aboard ; 
an'  Cap7n  Cyrus7s  vessel  bein7  rigged  up  in  double- 
quick  time  by  both  crews,  she  got  into  port  a  week 
before  she  was  looked  out  for.  I  tell  you  what  it  is, 
a  owner  has  got  to  hunt  a  long  while  before  he  finds 
three  such  cap7ns  as  them ! 77 


22  THE    MEKlfY    CHAXTEIi. 

In  spite  of  my  admiration  of  these  noble  fellows, 
I  could  not  help  being  practical.  I  could  not  believe 
that  they  would  be  able  to  do  everything.  But  when 
I  asked  if  some  younger  persons  would  not  be  needed 
on  the  ship,  Captain  Asa  answered  very  decidedly: 
"  No,  sir ;  no  young  fellows  nor  boys  won't  be  needed. 
If  you  shipped  a  bigger  crew  the  profits  would  have 
to  be  cut  up  into  smaller  sheers,  and  the  cap'ns 
wouldn't  stand  that." 

"But  suppose  we  don't  make  any  profits,"  said 
Doris.  "  That  would  be  a  great  loss  to  these  brave 
old  sailors." 

"  Oh,  they  won't  lose  nothin',"  said  Captain  Asa 
"  They  7ve  all  got  good  houses,  an'  they  rent  'em  out 
for  the  summer  to  city  people.  I  've  got  the  lettin'  of 
them.  They  're  all  widowers,  from  two  to  three  times 
over,  except  Cap'n  Cyrus,  an'  his  wife  has  been  livin' 
for  nigh  on  to  five  year  at  West  Imbury,  so  he  7s  as  free 
as  a  sandpiper,  an'  no  funeral  in  the  family  nuther." 

Again  my  practical  mind  asserted  itself.  "Look 
you,  Captain,"  said  I.  "  Is  it  expected  that  we  are  to 
furnish  provisions  for  the  crew  as  well  as  ourselves, 
and  to  supply  money  for  the  purchase  of  the  cargo 
when  we  get  to  Boston  ?  If  that  is  the  case,  I  think 
that  two-sixths  of  the  profits  is  but  a  poor  return." 

"Oh,  bother  the  profits,'7  cried  Doris.  "I  want  to 
hoist  anchor  and  put  to  sea  ! " 

Captain  Asa  looked  at  her  admiringly.  "  You  're  just 
like  them  cap'ns,"  said  he.  "  They  're  all  hankerin'  to 
feel  the  ship  heave  an'  to  smell  bilge-water.  But 
what  you  say  is  worth  consider-in',  sir.  I'll  go  an' 
speak  to  'em  about  it." 


THE    MEKRY   CHANTER.  23 

In  a  few  minutes  he  returned  and  stated  that  the 
captains  allowed  that  what  I  said  had  sense  in  it,  and 
that  they  all  agreed  to  chip  in  and  each  pay  one-sixth 
of  expenses  for  stores  and  cargo. 

tl  Good ! n  cried  Doris.  "  Now  everything  is  settled, 
and  let  us  be  on  board  and  away." 

But  there  was  a  good  deal  to  be  done  before  we 
could  be  u  on  board  and  away."  The  captains,  how 
ever,  were  as  anxious  as  Doris  to  be  away,  and  lost 
no  time  in  the  necessary  preparations.  They  knew 
just  what  to  do  and  what  to  get,  and  naturally  we  left 
everything  to  them. 

But  the  whole  of  the  little  town  took  an  interest 
in  the  fitting  out  of  the  Merry  Chanter,  the  stout  old 
ship  that  had  lain  so  long  at  Cantling's  wharf,  Doris 
received  much  advice  and  some  small  presents  from 
the  women,  while  the  men  gave  a  good  deal  of  volun 
tary  service  which  we  well  knew  was  all  for  the  sake 
of  their  old  mates,  the  four  captains. 

Some  things  I  could  not  help  thinking  of,  and 
standing  by  Captain  Timon  on  the  wharf,  I  asked  him 
if  a  wooden  ship  lying  so  long  in  the  water  did  not 
accumulate  a  great  many  barnacles  on  her  side,  which 
would  impede  her  sailing. 

A  shade  of  uneasiness  passed  over  the  face  of  the 
old  man.  "Of  course,"  said  he,  "when  a  vessel's 
been  tied  up  for  two  or  three  years  in  salt  water  it  's 
no  more'n  natural  that  she'd  have  barnacles  on. 
Natur'  is  natur'  an'  there 's  no  gettin'  round  it,  and 
of  course  if  the  barnacles  was  cleaned  off  her  she  'd 
make  more  knots  an  hour  than  she  would  with  'em 
on  her.  But  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  sir,  if  you  begin  with 


24  THE    MERRY   CHANTER. 

barnacles  there  7s  no  tellin'  how  fur  you  '11  have  to  go 
on,  nor  where  you'll  stop.  Why,  sir,  if  she  was  my 
ship,  an7  things  was  as  they  is,  I  would  n't  do  as 
much  as  to  paint  the  door  of  that  galley.  If  you  be 
gin  anywhere,  barnacles  or  paint,  you  ?re  bound  to  go 
on,  an7  there 'd  be  no  v'yage  made  in  that  ship  this 
year.  It  would  be  like  old  Tom  Duffin  of  Scap's 
Neck.  Tom  was  about  as  well  off  as  anybody  in 
these  parts.  He  had  a  good  house  an'  a  big  sloop- 
rigged  fishin'-boat.  She  wa'  n't  as  fast  as  some,  but 
she  was  so  big  and  safe-lookin'  that  the  city  people 
who  came  down  here  always  wanted  to  go  sailin'  with 
Tom,  an'  he  charged  'em  high,  he  did,  for  in  some 
ways  he  wasn't  no  fool.  But  bein'  with  these  fine 
people  so  much  kinder  twisted  Tom's  head,  an7  one 
day  he  went  off  an'  bought  himself  a  new  shiny  black 
silk  hat.  That  was  Tom's  turnin'-p'int.  With  that 
hat  on  his  head,  his  Sunday  clothes,  which  ought  to 
have  lasted  him  all  his  life,  wa'  n't  good  enough,  an' 
he  got  new  ones.  Then  his  wife's  clothes  wa'  n't  good 
enough  to  go  along  with  them,  an'  she  got  new  ones. 
Then  the  children's  clothes  wa'  n't  good  enough  to  go 
along  with  them,  an'  they  got  new  ones.  An'  then 
his  furnitur'  wa'n't  good  enough  to  go  along  with  all 
them  fine  clothes,  and  new  had  to  be  got.  And  that 
made  the  house  look  mean,  an'  Tom  set  to  work  to 
build  a  new  one.  There  ain't  no  use  carryin'  the 
story  all  along,  but  Tom  went  straight  from  that  new 
silk  hat  to  the  Bremport  poor-house,  where  he  is  now ; 
and  his  wife  7s  a  nurse  in  the  chronic  ward,  an'  his 
children  is  out  in  service  in  Boston.  Now,  sir,  I  look 
upon  them  barnacles  as  just  the  same  as  that  black 


26  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

hat.  If  you  begin  on  them  you  may  not  bring  up  at 
the  poor-house,  but  there  's  no  knowin'  where  you  will 
bring  up.  The  only  thing  anybody  can  know  is  that 
there  will  be  no  v'yage  this  year." 

I  could  readily  understand  Captain  Timon's  mean 
ing  and  his  anxiety  to  start  on  our  voyage.  If  we 
undertook  to  put  the  Merry  Chanter  into  good  repair 
the  chances  of  those  four  old  captains  feeling  the 
heave  of  the  seas  and  smelling  bilge-water  would  be 
small  indeed. 

"  From  what  you  say  I  suppose  you  can  sail  the 
ship,  barnacles  or  no  barnacles/'  I  said. 

"  Sail  her  ! "  exclaimed  he.  "  Just  you  wait  and 
see !  An7  the  best  thing  we  can  do  is  to  hurry  up 
her  stores  and  get  sail  on  her.  The  longer  she  lies 
here  the  more  barnacles  she  11  get." 

When  I  repeated  this  conversation  to  Doris  she 
declared  that  Captain  Timon  was  exactly  right. 
"We  have  no  money  to  bedeck  and  adorn  the 
Merry  Chanter,"  she  said,  "  and  if  we  had  I  would  n't 
do  it.  If  we  got  her  all  into  sleek  and  shiny  ship 
shape,  I  suppose  we  ?d  have  to  have  a  regular 
ship-shape  crew,  and  I  would  n't  have  that  for  the 
world.  Let  us  get  on  board  with  our  four  lively 
old  captains  and  sail  away  before  anything  turns  up 
which  will  positively  have  to  be  done." 


IV 


THE  MERRY  CHANTER  SETS  SAIL 


S  soon  as  possible  Doris  and  I  took 
possession  of  our  quarters  on  the 
Merry  Chanter.  We  occupied  the 
captain's  cabin,  and  our  good  skip 
per  bunked  forward  with  the  crew. 
"If  they  was  common  seamen," 
said  he,  "I  would  n't  do  it  j  but  as  they  're  all  cap 
tains,  as  well  as  me,  I  don't  mind." 

While  busily  engaged  in  arranging  our  cabin  one 
morning  we  were  informed  that  some  one  wanted  to 
speak  with  us,  and  we  went  on  deck.  There  we 
found  a  person  whom  for  some  days  we  had  noticed 
walking  up  and  down  on  the  wharf,  and  showing 
an  evident  interest  in  our  ship  and  our  preparations. 
He  was  a  fresh-looking,  smooth-faced  young  man, 
over  thirty  perhaps,  who  stood  up  very  erect,  and 
whose  general  air  indicated  that  he  was  one  who, 
having  found  out  what  was  good  and  what  was  bad 
in  this  world,  had  been  content  to  act  upon  his 
knowledge,  but  at  the  same  time  to  give  himself 
no  airs  of  superiority  to  other  people  who  had  not 
found  out  what  he  knew.  This  was  a  good  deal 
for  anybody's  air  to  indicate;  but  Doris  told  me 

27 


28  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

afterwards  that  it  was  what  she  thought  this  man's 
air  indicated.  His  manner  of  speaking  to  us  was  at 
the  same  time  independent  and  respectful. 

"  Would  it  suit  you/'  he  said,  "to  take  me  on  board 
your  ship  as  a  passenger  ?  " 

We  were  somewhat  surprised.  "  Where  do  you  wish 
to  go  f "  I  asked. 

"I  have  been  told  that  you  sail  for  Boston,"  said  he. 

I  replied  that  Boston  was  our  destination. 

"Very  good/7  said  he.  "Then  I  wish  to  go  to 
Boston." 

"But,  sir,"  said  Doris,  "you  can  go  a  great  deal 
quicker  by  train,  you  know." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  travel  by  land,"  he  said.  "  I  wish 
to  sail  by  sea.  I  do  not  care  very  much  to  be  in  Bos 
ton,  but  I  wish  to  go  there  on  a  ship." 

"  Are  you  a  sailor  ? "  I  asked. 

"  No,  sir,"  he  said  ;  "  I  am  a  butcher.  For  four  years 
and  a  half  I  have  carried  on  butchery  in  this  neigh 
borhood.  You  can  inquire  of  anybody  as  to  my  char 
acter.  I  do  not  wish  to  butcher  any  more,  at  least  for 
the  present.  I  have  saved  some  money  and  I  intend 
to  travel,  and  it  struck  me  that  I  'd  rather  begin  my 
travels  on  your  ship  than  in  any  other  way.  I  do  not 
wish  to  work,  but  to  pay  my  passage.  Of  course,  if 
there  ?s  a  wreck,  or  a  man  overboard,  or  the  ship  takes 
fire,  I  'm  willin'  to  do  my  part  as  man  to  man.  But 
otherways  what  I  want  is  to  pay  my  way,  and  to  be 
beholden  to  no  man,  nor  to  have  him  beholden  to  me, 
exceptin'  in  such  things  as  are  understood  to  be  owed 
by  man  to  man." 

We  asked  for  a  little  time  for  consideration  and  re- 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER.  29 

tired  to  the  cabin,  whither  we  summoned  Captain 
Timon. 

"  He  speaks  us  fair,"  said  Doris.  "  I  think  he  would 
make  a  good  passenger.'7 

Captain  Timon  thought  so  too.  "  He  's  a  very  re 
spectable  young  man,"  said  he ;  "  straightforward  an' 
honest,  an'  means  what  he  says.  If  he  wants  to  get 
the  worth  of  his  money  traveling  I  guess  he  knows  as 
well  as  we  do  that  he  can  get  it  on  board  this  schooner ; 
an'  the  money  he  pays  will  be  somethin'  sure  to  count 
on." 

"  What  shall  we  charge  him  ? "  asked  Doris. 

"  Well,"  said  Captain  Timon,  "  if  you  make  it  some- 
thin'  that  can  be  divided  even  into  six  parts  I  '11  be 
satisfied,  an'  I  know  the  others  will." 

I  then  made  a  suggestion  based  upon  the  ordinary 
fare  to  Boston,  which,  after  some  modification,  was 
agreed  to ;  and  I  went  on  deck  to  inform  the  young 
man  that  for  so  much  money  we  would  take  him  as 
passenger  to  Boston. 

The  butcher  instantly  agreed  to  my  terms,  consented 
to  bunk  forward  with  the  crew,  and  went  ashore  to 
fetch  his  baggage.  In  two  or  three  hours  he  returned, 
bringing  his  effects  in  a  cart.  They  consisted  of  a 
large  trunk,  a  small  trunk,  a  square,  leather- covered 
box,  two  long  oblong  boxes,  a  package  wrapped  in  an 
oil-skin  cloth,  and  a  market-basket,  the  cover  of  which 
being  slightly  raised  I  saw  to  be  full  of  boots  and  shoes. 
Besides  these  he  carried  in  his  hand  a  cage  containing 
a  sandpiper,  with  one  wing  carefully  bandaged  to  its 
body. 

"  It  looks  like  a  good  deal  of  baggage,"  he  said  to 


30  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

me,  "just  for  a  trip  to  Boston.  But  it  is  n't  only  to 
Boston  that  I  want  to  go.  I  've  set  out  to  travel  just 
as  long  as  I  can  keep  it  up.  I  've  sold  my  horse  and 
wagon,  and  what  's  here  is  all  the  property  I  have,  and 
wherever  I  go  I  take  it  with  me.  As  for  this  bird," 
he  said,  "  I  saw  him  on  the  beach  with  a  broken  wing, 
and  I  caught  him,  and  now  I  'm  tryin'  to  cure  him  up. 
When  animals  is  too  small  to  butcher,  I  'm  fond  of 
?em." 

And  thereupon,  assisted  by  his  carter,  he  carried  his 
property  below. 

Doris  and  I  were  getting  very  impatient  to  start  on 
our  voyage,  but  there  seemed  to  be  no  end  of  delays, 
the  principal  of  which  was  connected  with  the  ship 
ment  of  stones  —  cobble-stones  of  varied  sizes.  As 
the  Merry  Chanter  could  ship  no  cargo  at  Mooseley,  for 
the  reason  that  there  was  nothing  there  to  ship,  it  was 
necessary  that  she  should  go  to  Boston  in  ballast,  and 
these  stones  were  her  ballast. 

"  They  are  filling  it  up  from  one  end  to  the  other ! " 
cried  Doris.  "  I  never  saw  anything  like  it !  This 
waiting  for  bread  and  getting  stones  is  more  than  I 
counted  on,  Captain  Timon,"  she  cried.  "  If  there  are 
so  many  barnacles  on  the  ship  I  should  think  they 
would  serve  for  ballast." 

The  skipper  shook  his  head.  "  It  won't  do  to  trust 
to  barnacles,"  he  said,  "  though  I  don't  doubt  there  's 
a  good  many  of  'em.  But  don't  be  afraid,  ma'am. 
We  '11  get  her  off  before  you  know  it." 

It  was  on  the  morning  of  a  Wednesday,  the  third  of 
June,  that  Captain  Timon  came  to  us  rubbing  his 
hands  and  declared  that  the  Merry  Chanter  was  ready 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  31 

to  sail.  He  called  the  ship  the  Chanter,  but  that  was 
an  abbreviation  my  wife  and  I  never  allowed  ourselves 
to  adopt. 

"  Hurrah ! "  cried  Doris,  before  I  could  find  words 
to  express  my  satisfaction.  "  And  now,  dear  Captain, 
let  every  sail  be  set,  and  hoist  our  ensign  to  the  top 
most  peak.'7 

A  smile  came  over  the  face  of  the  good  skipper.  "  I 
guess  we  won't  set  every  sail/7  said  he.  "  They  won't 
be  needed  with  this  wind ;  an'  as  to  ensign,  I  don't 
know  as  we  've  got  one  aboard." 

"  That  is  too  bad ! "  said  Doris.  "  As  soon  as  we  are 
fairly  off  I  '11  go  to  work  and  make  one  myself." 

Everything  being  now  all  ready,  and  Captain  Timon 
having  done  everything  that  should  be  done  for  a 
schooner  clearing  for  Boston,  we  hoisted  anchor ;  that 
is  to  say,  we  cast  off  the  cables  which  for  so  long  had 
held  the  Merry  Chanter  to  Cantling's  wharf. 

It  seemed  to  me  as  if  the  whole  town  had  turned 
out  to  see  us  off  and  to  help  us  get  off.  More  willing 
hands  than  were  really  necessary  helped  the  captains 
to  hoist  the  foresail,  the  mainsail,  and  two  jibs ;  and 
when  this  had  been  done  the  owners  of  the  willing 
hands  scuttled  down  into  their  boats,  made  fast  to  a 
line  from  the  Mernj  Chanter,  and  vigorously  pulled  her 
bows  around  so  that  she  might  take  the  wind. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  her  bow  got  a.round  or 
she  took  the  wind;  but  Doris  and  I  and  the  butcher 
scarcely  noticed  this,  so  busy  were  we  waving  our 
handkerchiefs,  and  shouting  good-byes  to  the  women, 
the  children,  and  the  old  men  on  the  wharf,  who  in 
return  waved  their  handkerchiefs,  their  hands,  or 


32 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 


their  hats  to  us,  wishing  us  a  lucky  voyage,  fair  winds, 
and  smooth  water. 

At  last  the  Merry  Chanter  was  got  around,  the  wind 
filled  her  sails,  the  boats  cast  off,  and,  pulling  to  a 
little  distance,  their  occupants  waved  their  hats  and 


The  owner  of  the  Merry  Chanter. 

cheered  j  there  was  a  slight  inclination  of  the  deck  to 
leeward,  and  our  ship  was  under  way. 

It  is  seldom,  I  think,  that  a  ship  goes  to  sea  with  a 
crew  composed  entirely  of  captains,  but  the  consider 
ation  of  the  fact  gave  us  great  comfort.  Here  were 
men  with  long  lives  of  experience.  Whatever  might 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER.  33 

happen,  they  would  know  exactly  what  to  do.  These 
noble  seamen  had  been  from  pole  to  pole  j  they  had 
known  the  desolation  of  the  icy  north;  they  had 
sailed  through  the  furious  typhoons  of  the  tropics; 
and  with  sound  ships,  or  ships  with  battered  sides, 
they  had  dashed  in  safety  through  maddened  waves 
from  port  to  port.  And  not  only  the  best  of  good 
seamanship,  but  the  best  of  good  luck,  we  carried 
with  us.  In  all  his  life  Captain  Cyrus  had  never  had 
anything  serious  happen  to  his  ships ;  and  why  should 
he  begin  now?  It  was  especially  consoling  to  me,  as 
I  looked  at  my  lovely  wife,  to  think  of  these  things  at 
the  outset  of  our  wedding  trip. 

Not  only  seamen  of  vast  experience,  but  able  and 
lively  seamen,  were  our  captains.  No  one  could  im 
agine  that  years  hung  heavy  upon  them.  Captain 
Timon  stood  at  the  helm  with  the  bold,  bright  eye  of 
an  old  sea-king.  Captain  Garnish,  acting  as  mate, 
strode  tall  and  strong  along  the  deck,  looking  up  at 
the  sails  and  rigging  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  knew 
exactly  what  each  inch  of  canvas,  each  stick  of  tim 
ber,  and  each  piece  of  cordage  should  at  that  moment 
be  doing,  and  ready,  if  he  saw  the  least  thing  amiss, 
to  roar  out  condemnation. 

Captain  Teel  had  assumed  the  duties  of  cook,  and 
was  now  shut  up  in  the  galley  j  but  Captain  Cyrus,  as 
lively  as  a  squirrel,  and  still  wearing  his  embroidered 
velvet  slippers,  was  here,  there,  and  everywhere,  stow 
ing  away  this,  coiling  up  that,  and  making  things,  in 
general,  ship-shape,  and  always  with  a  pleasant  grin 
upon  his  face,  as  if  it  were  all  an  old  story  to  him  and 
he  liked  it. 


34  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

Doris  ran  forward  to  see  how  the  Merry  Chanter 
himself  was  getting  on,  and  I  followed.  We  leaned 
over  the  bulwarks  of  the  bow  and  looked  at  him. 
There  he  stood,  part  of  his  right  arm  still  extended, 
his  head  thrown  back,  and  his  long  hair  appearing 
ready  to  float  in  the  breeze,  while  his  open  mouth 
seemed  drinking  in  the  fresh  salt  air. 

"  Look  at  him  ! "  cried  Doris.  "  He  is  all  ready  for 
the  tossing  waves,  the  roaring  gale,  and  the  brave  sea 
song.  How  grand  it  must  be  to  stand  there  with 
nothing  but  the  sea  before  him,  catching  everything 
first,  and  afraid  of  nothing ! " 

Seizing  my  hands,  Doris  danced  away  with  me  over 
an  almost  level  deck.  "  Is  n't  this  grand  ? "  she  said. 
"  And  treading  our  own  deck !  Let  ?s  pipe  all  hands 
to  grog ! n 

I  entered  into  the  enthusiasm,  but  demurred  to  the 
grog-piping. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  deck  walked  up  and 
down  the  butcher,  clad  in  an  immaculately  clean 
white  gown  of  the  kind  peculiar  to  his  trade,  and 
worn  probably  with  the  idea  of  keeping  the  dust  off 
his  clothes. 

"How  do  you  like  the  sea?"  asked  Doris  as  we 
passed. 

"  I  think  I  shall  like  it  when  we  get  there,"  said  the 
butcher. 

" Get  there?"  she  exclaimed.  " Don't  you  call  this 
the  sea?" 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  this  is  Mooseley  harbor.  When  we 
get  around  that  point,  two  miles  from  here,  then  we 
are  really  out  to  sea." 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER. 


35 


Captain  Teel  now  appeared  and  informed  us  that 
dinner  was  ready.  It  had  been  decided  that  the 
butcher,  as  a  passenger,  should  mess  with  us.  Cap- 


;  Look  at  Mm ! '  cried  Doris." 


tain  Timon  was  also  to  be  one  of  our  company,  but 
he  declined  to  leave  the  wheel  for  the  present. 

The  butcher  appeared  at  the  table  in  a  neat  suit  of 
new  clothes,  having  removed  his  gown.     He  was,  in- 


36  THE    MERRY   CHANTER. 

deed,  a  very  tidy  and  proper-looking  fellow.  As  he 
was  used  to  that  sort  of  thing,  I  invited  him  to  carve. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  he  quietly,  but  with  decision ;  "  I 
have  shut  the  shop  door  behind  me." 

We  had  fine  sea  appetites  for  our  meal,  but  Doris 
ate  hurriedly.  "  I  'm  so  afraid  we  11  pass  around  the 
point  while  I  am  down  here,"  she  said.  "  I  would  n?t 
for  the  world  miss  our  actual  passage  out  upon  the 
bosom  of  Mother  Ocean  ! " 

When  we  ran  on  deck  we  looked  about  and  beheld 
the  point  still  ahead  of  us. 

"  Why,  Captain  Timon,"  said  Doris,  "  have  we  sailed 
at  all  1" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  said  cheerily ;  "we're  gettin'  on,  we're 
gettin'  on.  We  have  n't  lost  no  headway  so  fur.  This 
wind '11  freshen  before  long,  and  then  you'll  see." 
And,  leaving  the  helm  in  care  of  Captain  Garnish,  he 
went  below. 

Whether  the  wind  fell  off  instead  of  freshening,  or 
whether,  as  Doris  surmised,  we  had  become  accident 
ally  anchored,  we  certainly  made  but  little  progress, 
and  there  were  times  when  it  seemed  as  if  the  distant 
point  were  actually  becoming  more  distant. 

As  there  was  no  probability  of  an  immediate  rush 
out  upon  Mother  Ocean,  we  went  below  to  look  over 
our  little  stock  of  literature ;  and  while  so  engaged 
we  heard  a  great  sound  of  flapping  and  banging  upon 
deck.  Hurrying  up,  we  found  that  the  sails  were 
loosely  swinging  and  hanging,  and  that  the  crew, 
assisted  by  Captain  Timon,  were  engaged  in  pulling 
them  down. 

"  What  is  the  matter ! "  we  cried. 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  37 

"Nothin'  is  the  matter,"  replied  Captain  Cyrus, 
cheerily.  "  We  're  goin'  to  fish." 

Doris  sat  down  on  something.   "  Fish  ! "  she  gasped. 

Captain  Timon  now  came  towards  us.  "  You  see," 
said  he,  "it  ain't  no  use  tryin7  to  make  headway 
against  this  flood  tide  ;  an1  so  we  thought  we  'd  a 
great  sight  better  anchor  and  fish.  The  fish  '11  be 
comin'  in  lively  with  the  flood.  The  tide  will  turn 
about  six  o'clock,  an'  then  we  can  go  out  on  the  ebb 
an'  pass  the  p'int  in  just  the  prettiest  time  of  the 
evenin'.  An'  if  you  want  to  fish,  there  's  lines 
enough  on  board  for  everybody." 

For  some  minutes  we  were  disgusted  to  the  point 
of  not  being  able  to  say  how  disgusted  we  were.  Then 
Doris,  seeing  the  captains  gathered  at  the  stern  all 
busy  in  preparing  their  lines,  sprung  to  her  feet  and 
declared  that  she  might  as  well  make  the  best  of  it, 
and  that  she  was  going  to  fish. 

Captain  Cyrus  took  charge  of  her,  baiting  her  hook, 
and  cheerily  giving  her  all  needful  help  and  advice. 
As  for  me,  I  did  not  care  to  fish ;  and  as  for  the 
butcher,  he  did  not  care  to  fish ;  and,  together,  we 
walked  forward. 

"  It  's  my  opinion,"  said  he,  confidentially,  "  that 
this  is  a  stone  ship.  I  '11  lay  two  to  one  there  's  bar 
nacles  on  her  like  the  foundation  walls  of  a  church, 
and  inside  they  've  loaded  her  up  with  stone  enough 
for  a  monument.  If  she  ever  sticks  fast  on  a  bar 
she'll  be  solid  enough  to  build  a  lighthouse  on." 

"  You  don't  seem  to  have  faith  in  the  sailing  quali 
ties  of  our  ship,"  said  I.     "  You  must  be  sorry  you 
took  passage  with  us." 
4 


38  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  he.  "1 7ve  come  on  board  with  all 
my  belonging  and  I  intend  to  stick  to  her  as  long  as 
anybody  else  does.  Stone  ship,  or  wooden  ship,  I 
don't  go  back  on  my  bargain." 

The  Merry  Chanter  was  lying  two  or  three  miles  from 
Mooseley  and  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  point. 
The  wind  and  tide  together  had  swung  her  around  so 
that  she  lay  almost  broadside  to  the  distant  town. 
Looking  in  that  direction  we  saw,  far  away,  a  little 
boat. 

The  butcher  gazed  a  few  moments  in  silence,  and 
then  he  said :  "  There  ?s  a  skiff  comin'  after  us  from 
town.  Perhaps  they  think  somethin7  's  happened. 
I  '11  go  down  and  get  one  of  the  spy-glasses  and  see 
who  it  is." 

When  he  returned  with  the  glass  he  leveled  it  at  the 
boat.  For  a  few  moments  he  gazed,  and  then  he  said, 
forcibly,  but  in  an  undertone,  "  I  '11  be  knocked  in  the 
head  if  that  is  n't  Captain  Cyrus's  wife ! " 

"  What  do  you  suppose  she  wants  ?  "  I  asked.  "  Why 
does  she  come  ?  " 

"  No  man  can  tell  you  that,"  he  answered.  "  She 
hates  sea  air,  and  won't  live  with  him.  But  since  1 7ve 
been  in  these  parts  she 's  come  down  four  times  to  see 
him,  and  every  time  he  has  been  away  on  a  fishin' 
cruise  or  somethin7.  You  know  Captain  Cyrus  goes 
for  the  luckiest  man  in  the  world.  But,  my  conscience ! 
she  made  it  hot  for  the  neighbors  when  she  saw  the 
way  his  house  was  kept.  And  now  she  ?s  found  him 
off  again ;  but  bein*  anchored,  she  ?s  come  after  us. 
I  '11  go  and  report  to  the  skipper." 

So  saying,  he  walked  aft,  and  taking  Captain  Timon 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER.  39 

aside,  he  stated  what  he  had  seen.  I  followed,  and  I 
perceived  that  this  intelligence  had  a  wonderful  effect 
upon  our  skipper. 

"  Don't  say  a  word  to  Captain  Cyrus/7  he  whispered 
to  us.  "  We  must  get  out  of  this  in  no  time."  And, 
without  a  moment's  delay,  he  piped  all  hands  to  haul 
up  fishing-lines,  weigh  anchor,  hoist  sail,  and  get 
under  way. 

In  these  hurried  preparations  I  did  what  I  could  to 
help ;  and  the  butcher  looked  as  if  he  would  like  to 
follow  my  example,  but  was  restrained  by  the  pro 
prieties  of  his  position  as  a  passenger. 

"  If  there  's  any  danger  of  that  boat  catchin'  up," 
said  he,  "  I  '11  lay  hold  and  work  like  a  good  fellow ; 
for  her  comin'  aboard  will  be  worse  than  a  ship  afire." 

The  skipper  was  at  the  wheel.  "  We  're  goin'  to  run 
her  before  the  wind/'  he  said,  "  an'  we  won't  try  to 
double  the  p'iut.  That  land  off  there  makin'  the  sou7- 
west  line  of  our  harbor  is  an  island,  an'  there  's  an 
inlet  between  it  and  the  mainland  that  we  can  run 
through.  Wind  and  tide  will  favor  us,  an'  I  reckon 
we  can  get  away;  an'  Captain  Cyrus  won't  never 
know  nuthin'  about  it.  That  boat  can't  pull  across 
the  bay  after  us ;  she  7s  huggin'  the  shore  now  on  ac 
count  of  the  tide.  Them  ?s  two  colored  men  that  's 
been  waiters  at  a  hotel  that 's  pullin'  her.  There  ain't 
a  man  belongin'  to  our  town  that  would  get  out  his 
boat  to  take  Captain  Cyrus's  wife  after  him." 

"But  will  not  Captain  Cyrus  suspect  something 
from  your  sudden  change  of  plans  ? "  I  asked. 

"  He  knows  the  fish  would  n't  bite,"  said  the  skipper, 
"  an'  that  ought  to  be  reason  enough." 


40  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

The  situation  had  been  explained  to  Doris,  and  she 
was  wildly  anxious  to  have  every  stitch  of  canvas 
crowded  upon  the  Merry  Chanter  that  she  might  speed 
across  the  bay,  and  away  from  that  little  boat. 

"  What  she  wants  is  to  come  aboard/7  said  Doris, 
"  and  we  can't  have  a  woman  like  that  on  the  Merry 
Chanter.  If  she  wants  to  scold  her  husband  let  her 
wait  until  he  gets  home.  It  is  n't  far  to  Boston  and 
back." 

Captain  Timon  smiled  at  this  remark.  "  We  're  not 
on  a  straight  line  for  Boston  just  now,  but  if  we  try 
to  double  that  p7int  she  7H  catch  us  sure.77 

"  Then  let  us  forget  there  is  a  point,77  said  Doris, 
who  in  this  matter  was  exactly  of  my  opinion. 

It  did  not  seem  the  Merry  Chanter's  habit  to  dash 
through  the  water,  but  with  a  good  wind  behind  her 
and  a  tide  more  in  her  favor  than  against  her  she 
sailed  across  the  bay  at  a  rate  considerably  greater 
than  that  of  a  boat  rowed  by  two  inexperienced  oars 
men.  When  the  little  boat  saw  what  we  were  about 
it  left  the  shore  and  steered  as  if  to  cut  us  off.  But 
it  was  easy  to  see  that  the  tide  was  carrying  it  back 
towards  the  town. 

The  tide  also  carried  us  in  a  somewhat  retrograde 
direction,  but  by  the  aid  of  the  wind  we  laid  a  straight 
course  for  the  inlet  of  which  Captain  Timon  had 
spoken. 

Captain  Cyrus  was  kept  busy  forward  and  suspected 
nothing  of  his  pursuit  by  the  little  boat. 

"She  has  about  gi'n  up  the  chase/7  said  Captain 
Timon,  looking  back  at  the  boat.  "  Them  fellows 
can't  catch  a  schooner  sailing  afore  the  wind,  an7  I 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER.  41 

don't  believe  they  want  to  try  much  nuther.  We  was 
at  arichor  when  they  put  out  from  town." 

I  had  known  oarsmen  who,  I  thought,  would  be 
able  to  catch  that  schooner  even  were  she  sailing 
before  the  wind. 

In  about  two  hours  we  reached  the  inlet,  and  Doris 
and  I  were  surprised  to  find  how  narrow  it  was.  It 
was  like  a  small  river. 

"  Do  large  ships  often  go  through  here  ? "  I  asked  of 
the  skipper. 

"  'T  ain't  common,"  said  he,  "  but  me  an'  the  other 
cap'ns  knows  every  inch  of  this  inlet  and  every 
stage  of  the  tide,  an'  you  can  rest  sure  there  '11 
always  be  a  foot  of  water  between  her  keel  an? 
the  bottom." 

The  inlet,  we  were  told,  was  three  miles  long  and 
opened  into  Shankashank  Bay.  For  a  great  part  of 
this  distance  the  incoming  tide  carried  us  through, 
and  when  we  met  the  flood  from  the  bay  the  inlet 
had  widened,  so  that  we  were  enabled  to  take  advan 
tage  of  the  wind  for  the  rest  of  the  way. 

It  was  nearly  dark  when  we  emerged  into  Shanka 
shank  Bay, but  we  could  see  well  enough  to  judge  that 
it  was  a  large  expanse  of  water. 

"We  may  as  well  anchor  here,"  said  the  captain, 
"  an'  make  ourselves  comfortable  for  the  night. 
Even  if  she  can  get  anybody  to  row  her,  it  's  not 
likely  she  can  come  through  that  inlet  after  us.  The 
tide  runs  in  at  both  ends  of  it,  an'  meets  in  the 
middle,  an'  unless  she  strikes  it  just  at  high  tide  or 
low  tide  she  '11  find  a  regular  mill-race  ag'in'  her  fur 
half  the  way,  no  matter  whether  it  is  flood  or  ebb." 


42  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

The  captains  were  all  busy  anchoring  the  schooner 
and  getting  down  the  sails  when  the  butcher  came  up 
the  companion-way  and  beckoned  me  apart. 

"Look  here!"  said  he, —  and  I  noticed  that  he 
appeared  somewhat  agitated, —  "do  you  know  that 
there  is  a  stowaway  aboard?" 

"A  what?"  I  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,  there  is,"  he  continued ;  "  a  regular  one.  I 
was  down  below  where  it  was  pretty  dark,  bein'  only 
one  lantern,  when  I  heard  a  voice  comin'  from  I 
did  n't  know  where,  and  sayin',  '  Butcher,  ahoy ! ' 
I  give  a  jump  and  looked  about  lively,  I  can  tell 
you.  And  directly  I  saw  a  straw  hat  a-stickin?  up 
from  the  edge  of  a  hatchway.  l  Look  you,  butcher/ 
says  some  one  under  the  hat,  i  can't  you  get  me 
somethin'  to  eat?'  'Who  are  you?'  says  I.  'I  am 
a  stowaway,'  he  said;  'and  as  you  are  neither  a 
captain  nor  an  owner,  I  hope  I  may  persuade  you 
to  get  me  somethin'  to  eat,  for  I  am  very  hungry. 
When  the  ship  is  fairly  out  to  sea  I  will  come  forth, 
but  until  then  I  beg  you  will  keep  my  secret.'  Now 
what  sort  of  a  stowaway  do  you  call  that,  sir  !"  asked 
the  butcher  earnestly. 

"  A  very  odd  one,"  I  answered.  "  What  did  you  say 
to  him  I " 

"  I  did  n't  say  no  more,  but  come  right  upstairs  to 
speak  to  you ;  and  he  don't  know  whether  I'  Ve  gone 
to  get  him  grub  or  to  report  him  to  the  skipper." 

"  Of  course  we  ought  to  tell  Captain  Timon,"  said  I. 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  the  butcher,  shak 
ing  his  head.  "  Sea  captains  are  mighty  severe  on 
shipboard.  It 's  ten  to  one  they  'd  drag  him  out  and 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  43 

pitch  him  overboard,  and  it  ?s  too  dark  for  him  to  see 
to  swim  ashore.  I  think  it  will  be  better  to  give  him 
somethin'  to  eat  and  let  him  stay  aboard  till  morning 
and  then  we  can  put  him  ashore  decently." 

"  But  don't  you  think  it  will  be  dangerous  to  have 
such  a  man  on  board  during  the  night  ?  " 

"  You  need  n't  be  afraid  of  him/'  he  said.  "  I  've 
brought  my  butcher  tools  along.  And,  what 's  more, 
that  fellow  ain't  got  no  call  to  come  out.  What  he 
wants  is  to  keep  shady." 

We  talked  a  little  more  on  the  subject,  and  I  then 
agreed  that  the  butcher  should  give  the  stowaway 
something  to  eat,  and  that  nothing  should  be  said  to 
the  captains  or  to  my  wife  until  the  morning. 

I  was  ill  at  ease,  however,  and  did  not  sleep  well 
that  night.  After  tossing  about  a  good  deal,  I  quietly 
arose  and  peeped  out  of  the  cabin  door.  By  the  dim 
light  of  the  lantern  I  saw,  not  far  away,  the  butcher, 
sitting  on  a  chest.  His  arms  were  folded;  his  eyes 
were  open,  gazing  thoughtfully  into  the  surrounding 
darkness;  and  by  his  side  lay  a  bright  and  heavy 
butcher's  cleaver. 

He  did  not  see  me;  and  I  softly  closed  the  door, 
got  into  my  berth,  and  fell  into  a  sound  sleep. 


THE   STOWAWAY 

HEN,  early  in  the  morning,  after 
our  first  night  on  board  the  Merry 
Chanter,  I  met  the  butcher,  I  did  not 
mention  to  him  that  I  had  discov 
ered  him  standing,  or  rather  sitting, 
guard  before  our  cabin.  I  believed 
that  the  sentiments  which  prompted 
him  to  this  delicate  attention  should  be  respected. 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  did  everything  go  on  all  right  in 
the  night  ?" 

"  All  right,"  he  answered.  "  I  have  just  peeped 
down  the  hatchway,  and  I  caught  sight  of  his  straw 
hat.  I  guess  the  rest  of  him  is  there.  And,  if  you 
say  so,  we  '11  let  him  stay  till  after  breakfast." 

An  hour  later,  when  the  captain  and  Doris  were 
informed  that  there  was  a  stowaway  in  the  hold,  there 
was  great  excitement  on  board  the  schooner.  All 
thoughts  of  weighing  anchor  and  setting  sail  were 
abandoned  for  the  time.  Every  soul  on  the  vessel  re 
paired  to  the  hatchway.  Even  Doris  pressed  as  near 
the  edge  as  I  would  allow.  The  stowaway  was  bidden 
to  come  forth,  and  almost  immediately  he  scrambled 
up  among  us.  The  light  was  not  very  good  between 
decks,  and  we  could  only  see  that  he  was  a  man  of 
medium  height  and  of  spare  build. 

44 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 


45 


With  Captain  Timon  on  the  one  side  of  him,  and 
Captain  Garnish  on  the  other,  the  stowaway  was 
marched  to  the  upper  deck.  This  unauthorized  pas 
senger  was  seen  to  possess  an  intelligent  face  and  a 
very  rusty  suit  of  clothes.  Glancing  rapidly  around 
him,  he  exclaimed,  "  We  are  not  at  sea! " 

"  At  sea  !  "  roared  Cap 
tain  Garnish.    "  A  double- 
headed    Dutchman    of    a 
land-lubber  you  must  be 
not  to  know  the  differ 
ence  between  pitchin' 
on  the  sea  and  lyin' 
all  night  at  an 
chor  in  smooth 
water ! 


Captain  Garnish. 

How  dared  you  stow  your- 
\\       /  self  away  on  board  this  ves 
sel?     Is  it  rope's  end  first,  or 
simple  chuck  over  the  side  ?  "  he  said,  turning  to  the 
skipper. 

"We  won't  be  too  hard  on  him,"  said  Captain 
Timon.     "  Perhaps  the  man  can't  swim." 

"He    ain't   done  no  harm,"   said    Captain   Cyrus. 
"Let's  let  him  off  easy  and  set  him  ashore  in  a  boat.'? 


46  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

Captain  Teel  shook  his  head.  "  It  won't  do/7  he 
said,  "  to  offer  prizes  for  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  Prizes !  n  cried  Captain  Garnish,  who  was  evi 
dently  a  man  of  high  temper,  with  a  strong  way  of 
doing  and  putting  things.  "  Pd  prize  him  !  Pd  —  " 

Doris  now  spoke  up.  "None  of  those  things  shall 
be  done  to  him/'  she  said,  "  until  he  tells  his  story. 
Please,  sir,  will  you  tell  us  your  story?" 

The  man  had  a  pair  of  plaintive  eyes,  and  he  fixed 
them  upon  Doris.  "I  am  a  schoolmaster/' he  said. 
"For  nearly  a  year  I  have  been  teaching  at  West 
Imbury." 

Each  of  the  captains  now  put  his  head  a  little  for 
ward,  and  listened  with  great  attention. 

"I  stood  it  as  long  as  I  could/'  said  the  school 
master,  "and  then  I  ran  away.  I  am  not  a  sailor, 
but  I  thought  I  should  like  to  go  to  sea.  Any 
thing  would  be  better  than  teaching  school  at  West 
Imbury." 

"  Did  the  scholars  treat  you  badly ! w  asked  Doris. 

"Oh,  no,"  said  the  schoolmaster.  "I  don't  mind 
boys,  I  can  manage  them;  but  it  was  the  woman  I 
boarded  with  who  drove  me  to  desperation." 

"  Could  n't  you  board  somewhere  else?"  asked  Doris. 

"  No,  not  at  all,"  he  answered.  "  She  had  a  con 
tract  from  the  town  to  board  me  for  two  years.  She 
was  the  lowest  bidder.  She  would  lose  money  if  I 
went  away,  and  she  threatened  me  with  the  law. 
But  my  privations  and  misery  were  insupportable, 
and  I  fled." 

"  Who  was  the  woman  who  had  your  contract  ? " 
asked  Captain  Cyrus. 


47 


48  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

"  Mrs.  Bodship,"  said  the  schoolmaster. 

At  these  words  each  of  the  four  captains  heaved 
a  sigh,  and,  involuntarily,  Captain  Cyrus  laid  his 
hand  on  the  man's  shoulder. 

"  Now  that  you  've  put  yourself  square  afore  us/' 
said  Captain  Timon,  "I  don't  know  as  we  've  got 
much  to  say  ag'in  you;  but  you  ought  to  have 
come  aboard  square  an'  honest,  instead  of  stowin* 
away." 

"  I  was  told,"  said  the  schoolmaster,  "  that  you  did 
not  want  any  hands,  and  I  could  not  stay  on  shore  a 
moment  longer." 

"  Do  you  wish  to  go  to  Boston  ? "  asked  Doris. 

"I  will  go  anywhere,"  said  the  schoolmaster.  "I 
will  do  anything,  if  only  you  will  let  me  stay  with 
you." 

The  captains  now  retired  and  talked  together, 
while  Doris  and  I  had  some  further  conversation 
with  the  schoolmaster.  In  a  few  minutes  the  cap 
tains  returned. 

"  We  have  agreed,"  said  the  skipper,  "  that  if 
the  owners  are  willin'  we  are  willin'  to  let  him  stay 
on  board,  on  condition  that  he  is  not  to  have  any 
part  of  the  profits.  We  are  all  agreed  that  the  profits 
ought  not  to  be  divided  into  any  more  than  six  parts. 
So  that  if  he  stays  aboard  he  must  n't  do  no  more 
work  than  will  just  pay  for  what  he  eats;  a  bunk, 
not  costin'  anything,  can  be  thrown  in  for  nothin'." 

This  compact  was  quickly  made,  and  the  schoolmas 
ter,  much  relieved,  was  taken  below  to  breakfast. 

"There  ain't  no  need,"  said  Captain  Timon,  confi 
dentially,  "  fur  Captain  Cyrus  or  that  schoolmaster  to 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  49 

know  that  Mrs.  Bodship  was  tryin7  to  overhaul  the 
schooner.  It  will  just  worry  the  captain,  an'  won't 
do  the  schoolmaster  no  good." 

"  Do  you  think  Mrs.  Bodship  will  continue  her 
pursuit?77  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  sir/7  said  the  skipper.  "  She  's  the  kind  of 
woman  that  don't  give  up  easy.  But  I  think  we  7ve 
given  her  the  slip.  She  711  be  sure  to  think  that 
we  've  rounded  this  island  and  sailed  north,  for,  of 
course,  we  could  n't  have  no  call  to  stay  in  Shanka- 
shank  Bay.  It  ?s  my  opinion  she 's  gone  to  Boston  to 
be  ready  to  meet  us  when  we  get  there.  She  7s  got  a 
horse  an'  buggy,  an'  I  calculate  she  '11  drive  herself 
there." 

"  You  don't  mean,"  exclaimed  Doris,  "  that  she  can 
get  to  Boston  in  a  buggy  sooner  than  we  can  get  there 
in  the  Merry  Chanter  f  " 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  answered  Captain  Timon.  "  She  's  an 
awful  woman  with  the  whip.  An7  the  reason  I  think 
she  will  go  in  her  buggy  is  that  she  711  want  to  call  at 
the  different  ports  to  see  if  we  have  put  into  any  of 
them  for  water  or  repairs.'7 

"  Horrible  ! "  cried  Doris.  "  What  shall  we  do  when 
we  get  to  Boston  and  find  her  there  ?  " 

"I  don't  believe  she  '11  wait,"  said  the  skipper. 
"  She  7s  a  nervous  woman,  an7  hates  to  wait.  I  guess 
she  711  be  gone  when  we  get  there." 

When  the  schoolmaster  came  on  deck  he  had  tidied 
himself  up  a  little  and  now  looked  like  another  man. 
"  I  cannot  thank  you  enough,"  he  said  to  Doris  and 
me,  "for  allowing  me  to  remain  on  board  of  your 
ship.  It  is  like  beginning  a  new  life.  But  I  must 
5 


50 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 


admit  that  I  shall  feel  safer  when  I  am  out  upon  the 
open  sea." 

"  Can  you  swim  ? "  asked  the  butcher,  who  was 
standing  near. 

The  schoolmaster  answered  that  he  was  sorry  to  be 
obliged  to  say  that  he  could  not;  whereupon  the 


The  Butcher. 

butcher  gently  whistled  a  few  notes  and  gazed  out 
over  the  water. 

I  had  begun  to  believe  that  the  butcher  was  a  pes 
simist. 

"And  now,  Captain,"  cried  Doris,  u  let  us  up 
anchor  and  hoist  sail.  There  is  no  reason  for  our 
stopping  here  any  longer." 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  51 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Captain  Timon, 
dubiously.  "  The  tide  is  comin'  in  again,  an'  we  '11 
get  out  of  this  bay  just  as  quick  by  lyin'  here  as  by 
tryin'  to  sail  ag'in  that  flood-tide.  But  if  you  'd  like  to 
be  moving  we  can  take  a  sail  along  the  coast  of  Shank- 
ashank  Bay  an7  have  a  sight  of  the  country ;  an' 
then,  when  the  tide  turns,  we  can  go  out  on  the 
ebb." 

"  Oh,  by  all  means,  let  us  sail ! "  cried  Doris. 
"  Anything  is  better  than  being  anchored  here." 

"  Am  I  to  understand,  Captain,"  said  I,  "  that  dur 
ing  our  voyage  we  are  to  stop  every  time  the  tide  is 
against  us  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  the  skipper,  with  a  laugh.  "  That  's 
only  when  we  're  in  these  bays.  We  sha'n't  take  no 
account  of  tide  when  we  are  out  to  sea." 

During  the  rest  of  that  morning  we  sailed  along 
the  coast  of  Shankashank  Bay,  sometimes  half  a  mile 
from  the  land  and  sometimes  even  less.  It  was  a 
pretty  shore  and  we  enjoyed  it,  although  we  were 
moving  south,  and  almost  directly  away  from  Boston. 
There  was  a  good  wind  from  the  west,  but  we  sailed 
slowly.  We  would  not  wish,  however,  to  sail  very 
fast  in  the  wrong  direction. 

We  passed  a  little  scattered  town,  with  a  few  fish 
ing-boats  anchored  along  the  shore.  Then  we  came 
to  a  bluff  crowned  with  pine  woods  which  extended 
some  distance  back  into  the  interior.  The  country, 
as  far  as  we  could  see  along  the  shore,  appeared 
marshy  and  thinly  settled. 

The  captains  now  went  forward  and  talked  together, 
leaving  the  wheel  in  my  hands.  I  had  determined  to 


52  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

learn  to  steer,  and  to  get  as  much  nautical  education 
as  possible. 

In  a  very  few  minutes  Captain  Timon  returned. 
"  We  've  agreed,"  said  he,  "  that  we  'd  be  runniu'  ag'in 
sense  an'  reason  if  we  did  n't  lay  to  here  and  take  in 
water." 

"  Water ! "  I  cried.   "  Why,  we  have  taken  in  water." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  skipper,  "  common  water.  But  just 
the  other  side  of  that  bluff  there 's  the  Kilkink  Spring. 
A  tribe  of  Injuns  used  to  live  there  just  on  account 
of  that  spring.  There  is  no  better  water  in  the  world, 
an'  it 's  great  on  keepin'.  Fur  a  long  v'yage  there  's 
nothin'  like  it." 

At  first  Doris  and  I  were  inclined  to  rebel,  but  sud 
denly  she  changed  her  mind.  "  It  is  true,"  she  said, 
"  that  the  water  we  have  had  to  drink  so  far  is  flat 
and  horrid,  and  now  that  we  have  a  chance  of  taking 
in  some  fine  spring  water  we  ought  by  all  means  to 
do  so.  It  can't  keep  us  long." 

This  seemed  to  me  a  proper  moment  to  assert  my 
self,  and  to  make  Doris  understand  that  I  was  the 
one  who  should  decide  questions  of  this  sort.  But 
upon  reflection  I  found  that  I  was  not  prepared  to 
take  such  action.  When  I  took  my  true  position  I 
must  be  fully  prepared  to  maintain  it. 

In  twenty  minutes  we  were  anchored  about  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  from  the  bluff,  and  after  dinner  a  boat  with 
two  casks  and  two  captains  went  ashore  for  water. 

The  schoolmaster  was  ill  at  ease.  "  I  do  not  be 
lieve,"  said  he  to  me,  "  that  I  can  truly  feel  safe  from 
Mrs.  Bodship  until  we  are  actually  out  at  sea." 

The  butcher  walked  aft  to  where  Captain  Timon 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  53 

was  quietly  smoking  his  pipe.  "  Look  here,"  said  the 
butcner ;  "  you  ought  to  give  that  schoolmaster  some- 
thin7  to  do.  He  has  got  a  mind,  he  has,  and  if  you 
don't  set  his  arms  and  legs  a-goin'  that  mind  of  his 
will  run  away  with  him." 

"  I  have  given  him  somethin'  to  do,"  said  the  skip 
per,  sternly.  "  He  's  lent  a  hand  at  the  capstan,  an' 
he  's  lent  a  hand  at  the  sheets.  That  '11  pay  fur  his 
breakfast  an7  dinner,  an'  I  can't  give  him  no  more 
work  till  he  's  had  his  supper." 

The  butcher  made  no  further  remark  to  the  skip 
per,  but  turning  to  me  as  I  sat  by  with  my  afternoon 
pipe,  he  said :  "  He  's  so  scared  that  he  won't  stay  on 
deck  for  fear  that  she  might  be  driving  along  in  her 
buggy  and  get  sight  of  him.  And  if  she  does,  he 
says,  she  '11  be  bound  to  come  aboard." 

"What  in  the  world  is  he  afraid  of!"  I  asked. 
"  He  must  be  very  silly." 

"  He  is  afraid  of  Mrs.  Bodship,"  said  the  butcher ; 
"  and  if  you  knew  Mrs.  Bodship  you  'd  be  afraid  of 
her  too,  especially  if  she  had  a  contract  to  board  you. 
I  believe  that  wherever  that  schoolmaster  goes  she  7d 
follow  him  and  board  him,  so  that  she  could  send  in 
her  bill  to  the  town."  For  a  moment  he  stood  in 
thought.  "  I  know  what  I  '11  do ! "  he  exclaimed. 
"I  '11  lend  him  one  of  my  gowns  to  wear  over  his 
clothes.  Then  he  can  be  on  deck  as  much  as  he 
pleases,  and  if  she  does  see  him  she  won't  know  him 
unless  her  spectacles  are  a  lot  better  than  most." 

Not  long  afterwards  there  appeared  on  deck  what 
seemed  to  be  a  pair  of  butchers.  Doris  and  I  were 
much  amused  by  the  spectacle.  But,  notwithstand- 


54  THE    MERRY   CHANTER. 

ing  his  garb,  the  schoolmaster  did  not  look  the 
butcher.  His  gait,  his  bearing,  were  not  those  of  a 
genuine  slicer  of  meat  and  cleaver  of  bones.  Still, 
he  was  disguised  sufficiently  to  deceive  any  Mrs.  Bod- 
ship  who  might  be  traveling  on  shore. 

The  butcher's  efforts  on  behalf  of  the  schoolmaster's 
peace  of  mind  did  not  end  here.  After  a  few  turns 
up  and  down  the  deck  in  deep  reflection  he  came  aft, 
bringing  with  him  the  cage  which  contained  the 
wounded  sandpiper. 

"  Look  here/'  said  he  to  the  schoolmaster,  "  I  wish 
you  'd  run  this  bird  while  you  're  aboard.  I  'm  not 
such  an  hour-and-minute  man  as  you  are,  and  some 
times  I  forget  him." 

The  schoolmaster  took  the  cage  and  looked  inquir 
ingly  at  the  other. 

"  Now,"  said  the  butcher,  "  there  's  a  good  deal  to 
occupy  the  mind  in  running  a  sandpiper  in  a  cage, 
especially  if  he  ?s  got  a  broken  wing.  I  laid  out  to 
cure  that  wing,  but  I  guess  you  can  do  it  a  great  deal 
better  than  I  could,  if  you  give  your  mind  to  it. 
What  he  wants  is  plenty  of  mutton  tallow,  and  a  cage 
kept  as  clean  as  a  hospital  ward." 

When  the  two  casks  and  Captain  Teel  and  Captain 
Garnish  returned  in  the  boat,  the  schoolmaster,  with 
a  piece  of  sail-cloth  tied  in  front  of  him  to  protect  his 
butcher's  gown,  was  busily  engaged  in  cleaning  the 
sandpiper's  cage.  Captain  Garnish  stepped  up  to  him 
with  an  angry  glare  upon  his  face. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  "  that  's  ag'in  contract.  We 
did  n't  take  you  aboard  this  schooner  to  work  except 
meal  stints,  an'  no  more." 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER.  55 

The  schoolmaster  looked  up  at  the  angry  captain, 
but  before  he  could  reply  the  butcher  broke  in. 
"  Now,  then,  cap'n,"  said  he,  "  this  sandpiper  business 
is  a  private  job  between  me  and  the  schoolmaster. 
What  he  gets  and  what  he  don't  get  is  his  business 
and  mine.  The  sandpiper  has  n't  got  anything  to  do 
with  the  ship,  and  he  could  be  run  ashore  just  as  well 
as  he  is  run  here." 

The  severity  on  Captain  Garnish's  countenance 
began  to  fade.  "  Very  well,"  said  he  ;  "if  it 's  private 
I  Ve  nothin'  to  say.  But  there  's  no  claims  fur  work 
to  be  brought  ag'in  the  profits." 


VI 


THE     MAN     ON     THE     HILL 

lORIS  and  I  were  amazed  at  the  slow 
progress  made  by  the  captains  in 
supplying  the  Merry  Chanter  with 
pure  water  from  the  celebrated  Kil- 
kink  Spring.  The  boat  went  out 
again,  this  time  with  the  skipper 
and  Captain  Teel,  and  their  trip  was  a  longer  one 
than  that  of  the  two  other  captains.  At  the  end  of 
the  third  trip  evening  began  to  fall,  and  Captain 
Timon  said  it  would  be  of  no  use  to  try  to  get  any 
more  water  that  day. 

"  Any  more  ?  "  cried  Doris.  "  Surely  we  have  enough 
by  this  time  ! " 

The  skipper  smiled  and  shook  his  head.  "  Not  fur 
a  sea  v'yage,"  he  said.  "  When  you  once  get  out  to 
sea  there  's  no  gettin7  in  fresh  water.  You  see  we  Ve 
throwed  out  all  we  took  in  at  Mooseley,  because  you 
said  that  it  did  n't  agree  with  you.  We  don't  want 
to  make  our  owners  sick,  you  know." 

"  I  wish  I  had  never  mentioned  the  water/'  said 
Doris,  marching  away. 

The  next  morning  the  process  of  taking  in  the 
water  began  again;  but  there  was  no  use  fretting 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  57 

about  this,  Captain  Timon  remarked,  for  the  tide  was 
coming  in  again  and  we  ought  to  be  glad  that  we  had 
something  useful  to  do  while  we  were  obliged  to  wait. 

Restless  and  impatient,  and  tired  of  walking  up 
and  down  the  deck  of  our  anchored  vessel,  Doris  and 
I  went  ashore  on  the  second  trip  of  the  boat,  thinking 
a  country  walk  might  quiet  our  minds.  The  butcher 
had  already  been  landed;  but  we  could  not  induce 
the  schoolmaster  to  leave  the  ship.  We  left  him 
anointing  and  bandaging  the  wounded  wing  of  the 
sandpiper. 

Doris  would  not  leave  until  the  skipper  had  assured 
her  that  our  going  on  shore  would  not  interfere  with 
the  sailing  of  the  Merry  Chanter  when  the  proper 
time  came.  Captain  Timon  said  he  would  fire  a  gun 
—  he  had  a  musket  on  board  —  two  hours  before  he 
weighed  anchor,  and  as  this  would  certainly  give  us 
plenty  of  time  to  return  to  the  ship,  we  went  ashore 
with  easy  hearts. 

The  country  which  lay  between  the  bluff  and  the 
little  town  was  slightly  rolling ;  wiry  grass  growing 
thinly  in  the  sandy  soil,  with  a  few  bushes  here  and 
there.  At  some  distance,  on  the  top  of  a  little 
rounded  hill,  we  saw  the  butcher,  apparently  admir 
ing  the  landscape.  As  we  walked  in  his  direction, 
desiring  to  know  if  anything  could  be  seen  from  the 
top  of  that  hill,  he  came  down  to  meet  us. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said,  as  soon  as  he  was  near 
enough,  "if  that  schoolmaster  was  attendin'  to  my 
sandpiper  ?  n 

We  assured  him  that  we  had  left  the  pedagogue 
giving  careful  attention  to  the  unfortunate  bird. 


58  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

"I  am  glad  of  that/'  he  said,  his  countenance 
Assuming  an  expression  of  relief.  "He  ought  to 
keep  himself  occupied,  and  the  captains  won't  let  him 
do  no  more  for  the  ship  than  just  exactly  so  much. 
I  was  afraid  he  might  get  tired  stayin'  there  doin' 
nothin7  and  might  come  ashore.  And  it  would  be 
pretty  rough  on  him  if  she  were  to  nab  him  before 
he  'd  got  to  fairly  feelin'  at  home  on  the  ship." 

"What  were  you  looking  at  from  that  hill?"  asked 
Doris,  who  was  anxious  to  go  on. 

"I  was  looking  for  Mrs.  Bodship,"  said  he.  u  If 
I  ?d  seen  her  driving  this  way  in  her  buggy  I  'd  been 
on  board  in  no  time,  and  had  that  schoolmaster 
stowed  away  among  the  ballast  j  and  if  he  'd  heaved 
some  of  it  at  her  when  she  come  down  to  look  for 
him  I  would  n't  have  blamed  him,  though,  of  course, 
Captain  Cyrus's  feelings  must  be  taken  into  account 
when  it  comes  to  that." 

"  I  think  you  are  entirely  too  much  afraid  of  Mrs. 
Bodship,"  said  I. 

"  Well,  she  has  n't  come  along  yet,"  said  the 
butcher.  "  But  on  the  top  of  that  hill  there  is  a 
man  that  I  've  had  my  eye  on  for  pretty  nigh  an 
hour.  In  the  whole  of  that  time  I  don't  believe 
he  's  taken  his  eyes  off  the  ship.  I  have  an  idea  that 
he  has  got  a  contract  to  spy  for  Mrs.  Bodship." 

"  Let  us  go  straight  over  there  and  speak  to  him," 
said  Doris.  "  No  man  has  a  right  to  spy  on  the 
Merry  Chanter." 

Doris  spoke  so  quickly  that  I  had  no  time  to  pro 
pose  this  myself,  but  we  instantly  started  for  the 
distant  man. 


THE    MERRY    CHAPTER.  59 

"  Let  me  go  first,"  said  the  butcher.  "  He  may  have 
a  club  or  a  knife  about  him." 

Whether  or  not  the  butcher  had  his  cleaver  in 
one  of  his  pockets  I  could  not  tell,  but  he  walked 
bravely  on. 

The  man  on  the  hill  did  not  seem  at  all  disturbed 
by  our  approach.  On  the  contrary,  he  came  to  meet 
us,  as  the  butcher  had  done.  He  was  a  middle-sized 
man,  somewhat  inclined  to  stoutness,  but  very  quick 
and  springy  in  his  gait.  His  face  was  plump  and 
ruddy,  smooth  shaven  except  a  pair  of  sandy  side- 
whiskers,  and  he  had  pleasant  blue  eyes.  Without 
doubt  he  was  an  Englishman. 

"  Good  morning  to  you,"  he  said,  raising  his  hat. 
"Now  I  dare  say  you  belong  to  that  ship." 

I  informed  him  that  my  wife  and  I  owned  the 
vessel. 

"  Really ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  Now  tell  me  where  are 
you  bound  to  ?  " 

"  To  Boston,"  I  replied. 

"  The  very  thing ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  Boston  is  in  the 
North  somewhere,  now,  is  n't  it?  I  ?m  an  English 
traveler,  but  I  don't  like  your  long  railway  carriages. 
In  England  we  >d  use  them  for  bridges.  I  came  to 
this  place  in  a  wagon,  but  it  is  broken  to  smash 
down  there  in  that  village.  Now,  I  should  like,  of 
all  things,  to  take  a  sail  along  the  coast;  I  don't 
care  whether  it  is  to  Boston  or  Salt  Lake  City.  Now, 
tell  me,  will  you  book  me  as  a  passenger?  It  is  a 
trading  vessel,  is  n't  it?" 

Doris  and  I  consulted  apart.  "  I  have  an  idea," 
said  she,  "  that  it  is  not  impossible  we  might  make 


60  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

more  money  carrying  passengers  than  freight.  He 
seems  like  an  honest,  straightforward  man.  Why 
should  n't  we  take  him  to  Boston?77 

We  returned  and  told  the  man  that  we  were  mak 
ing  a  regular  commercial  cruise  to  Boston,  and  that 
if  he  was  in  no  hurry  to  get  there  we  would  take  him 
as  a  passenger. 

"Good!77  he  cried;  "1 711  go.  I  am  in  no  hurry, 
you  know.  But  you  are  positively  sure  now  that  you 
are  not  going  to  cross  the  Atlantic  ? 77 

So  far  the  butcher  had  not  spoken,  nor  did  he 
speak  now ;  but  the  spasm  of  resigned  pessimism 
which  seemed  to  run  through  his  frame,  heaving  his 
chest  and  gently  upturning  his  eyes,  indicated  quite 
plainly  his  opinion  of  the  Merry  Chanter's  crossing  the 
Atlantic. 

Having  assured  the  Englishman  that  our  trade  was 
entirely  coastwise,  he  declared  he  would  go  instantly 
to  the  town,  fetch  his  luggage,  and  be  on  board  in  no 
time.  In  fact,  when  we  had  finished  our  ramble  and 
were  about  to  enter  the  boat  which  Captain  Teel  had 
rowed  over  to  take  us  back  to  dinner,  we  saw  our 
passenger  rapidly  striding  over  the  hills  bearing  an 
immense  portmanteau  in  one  hand  and  in  the  other 
a  hat-box,  a  bundle  of  umbrellas  and  canes,  besides 
various  other  packages.  He  shouted  to  us  to  wait  for 
him,  and  we  took  him  on  board  with  us. 

The  captains  did  not  object  in  the  least  to  our  new 
passenger.  "  Summer  tenants  an7  boarders,77  said 
Captain  Timon,  "an?  sailin'  parties  long  and  short, 
has  got  ten  times  more  money  in  'em  than  fish  an7 
crops,  or  the  flour  trade  either,  for  that  matter.  I  go 


6 


61 


62  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

in  fur  pickin'  up  passengers  all  along  the  coast  if  we 
can  get  7em." 

"Always  being  careful/'  said  Doris,  in  an  under 
tone,  "  not  to  pick  up  a  Bodship."  At  which  Captain 
Timon  gave  a  sympathetic  grin. 

After  dinner  Doris  said  to  me,  "  We  ought  to  have 
a  book  in  which  to  put  down  the  names  of  our  pas 
sengers.'7  Accordingly  I  made  one  of  several  sheets 
of  paper.  We  entered  first  the  name  of  the  butcher, 
and  then  I  was  about  to  write  that  of  the  school 
master,  but  Doris  objected. 

"  We  ought  to  have  another  page  for  a  free  list," 
she  said,  "  and  put  him  on  that." 

When  this  had  been  arranged  we  went  on  deck  to 
inquire  the  name  of  our  new  passenger.  We  found 
him  sitting  on  a  coil  of  rope,  smoking  a  black 
wooden  pipe  and  talking  gaily  to  the  butcher,  the 
schoolmaster,  and  three  of  the  captains. 

"What  is  your  name,  sir?"  said  I,  approaching 
with  my  book  in  my  hand. 

He  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  in  deference  to 
the  presence  of  my  wife.  "I  am  Lord  Crabstairs," 
he  said. 

I  happened  to  be  looking  at  the  butcher  at  this 
moment,  and  saw  him  suddenly  turn  upon  his  heel 
and  disappear  below.  In  an  instant  he  returned. 
His  arms  were  folded  upon  his  chest,  but  I  could 
see  beneath  his  white  gown  the  distinct  outlines  of  a 
cleaver.  He  stepped  close  to  me. 

"  Maniacy  is  a  thing/'  he  whispered,  "  which  cannot 
be  allowed  on  shipboard." 

"  You  may  think  it  a  little  odd,"  said  the  new  pas- 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  63 

seiiger,  looking  about  on  the  various  degrees  of 
surprise  and  amazement  expressed  upon  the  coun 
tenances  of  the  company,  "  that  a  member  of  the 
Upper  House  should  be  neglecting  his  parliamentary 
duties  and  taking  passage  with  you  for  Boston, 
where  he  has  n't  the  least  business  in  the  world, 
you  know.  But  when  I  have  told  you  my  story  you 
won't  think  it  so  beastly  odd,  after  all." 

"  Story  ? "  cried  Doris.  "  Let  everybody  sit  down 
and  listen." 

And  everybody  did;  Captain  Teel  being  brought 
post-haste  from  the  cook's  galley. 


VII 


LORD   CEABSTAIRS 


N  the  first  place/7  said  Doris,  "do 
you  really  mean  to  say  that  you  are 
truly  an  English  lord  —  a  peer  of 
the  realm?" 

"I  do  really  and  truly  mean  to 
say  that,"  answered  the  passenger, 
his  blue  eyes  gleaming  with  as  much  of  an  honest 
glow  as  was  ever  seen  in  eyes.  "  I  am  Henry,  Lord 
Crabstairs  of  Haviltree,  Warwickshire.  The  family 
estates  once  covered,  I  am  told,  ten  thousand  acres." 
The  butcher  listened  with  interest.  "  Cattle  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  the  other  ;  "  I  don't  care  for  cattle. 
What  I  like  is  poultry.  Just  before  I  left  England 
I  had  the  finest  lot  of  poultry  you  ever  saw  —  all 
blooded,  with  pedigrees.  And  bees,  twenty-seven 
hives  of  bees,  and  each  one  with  its  name  painted 
on  it  in  a  different  color  from  the  rest  — '  Daisy/ 
'Clover/  'Daffodil/  and  so  on.  The  bees  could  n't 
read  the  names,  you  know,  but  each  one  knew  his 
hive  by  the  color  of  the  letters." 

"  This  is  the  first  time  I  ever  heard,"  said  Captain 
Garnish,  "  that  there  was  twenty-seven  colors." 

M 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  65 

"Oh,  bless  you ! "  cried  the  Englishman,  " it  is  easy 
enough  to  manage  that.  On  one  hive  the  letters  were 
all  red,  and  on  another  they  were  all  blue,  and  on 
another  half  were  red  and  half  blue,  and  so  on.  In 
that  way  I  made  the  colors  go  round,  you  know." 

"  You  ought  to  have  painted  your  bees,"  remarked 
Captain  Timon,  "  and  then  there  could  n't  have  been 
no  mistake.  If  you  saw  a  red  bee  goin'  into  a  blue 
hive  you  could  have  picked  him  up  and  put  him  into 
the  right  hole." 

"  No  need  of  that,  no  need  of  that ! "  cried  the 
Englishman.  "  The  bees  attend  to  that.  They  kill 
them  if  they  make  a  mistake,  you  know.  And 
there  are  lots  of  other  things  I  like,  such  as  flower 
beds  and  a  kitchen  garden.  Nothing  sets  me  up, 
you  know,  like  working  in  the  kitchen  garden. 
And  a  cow.  Every  morning  I  curried  and  brushed 
my  cow  until  she  shone  like  a  sealskin.  That  cow 
knew  me  like  a  brother.  If  she  happened  to  be  out 
of  sight  in  the  copse,  all  I  had  to  do  was  to  drum 
on  the  bottom  of  a  tin  pail,  and  she  would  come 
running  to  be  milked  and  to  get  her  bit  of  cabbage 
leaf." 

The  company  looked  wonderingly  at  one  another. 
Was  this  the  usual  way  of  life  with  British  peers  ? 

"  When  all  that  happened,"  continued  the  speaker, 
"I  was  the  happiest  man  in  the  United  Kingdom. 
Forty  years  old,  sound  of  wind  and  limb,  no  wife 
nor  child  nor  any  one  depending  on  me,  a  nice  little 
house  in  the  prettiest  part  of  Bucks  County,  with 
a  great  copper  beech  in  front  of  my  door  that  the 
earl  himself  would  have  given  a  thousand  pounds 


66  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

for  if  it  could  have  been  taken  up  and  planted  in 
his  park,  with  a  little  green  as  smooth  as  velvet 
where  I  used  to  feed  my  fowls,  and  the  brightest 
flower-beds  and  the  earliest  peas  within  twelve  miles 
of  Aylesbury.  I  have  a  little  income  from  my 
mother's  family,  and  that  kept  things  going,  and 
from  break  of  day  till  ten  o'clock  at  night  there 
could  n't  be  a  jollier  fellow  than  I  was. 

"  Well,  madam,  and  all  of  you,  it  was  on  a  beau 
tiful  morning  this  spring,  with  the  grass  greener 
and  more  flowers  in  blossom  and  the  peas  more 
forward  than  I  had  ever  known  them  before  at 
that  time  of  year,  not  to  speak  of  a  little  calf  as 
like  to  her  mother  as  two  pins  of  different  sizes, 
when  I  was  sitting  in  front  of  my  cottage  in  the 
shade  of  the  beech,  with  my  morning  pipe  and  mug 
of  ale,  that  there  came  to  me  two  men, —  attorneys 
they  were  from  London,  who  had  driven  over  from 
the  railway  station  in  a  dog-cart,—  and  they  lost  no 
time  in  saying  that  their  errand  was  to  inform  me 
that  by  the  death  of  the  late  lamented  Godfrey,  Lord 
Crabstairs,  I  was  now  Henry,  Lord  Crabstairs  of 
Haviltree. 

"  As  you  may  well  imagine,  I  jumped  up  in  a  rage 
at  hearing  this.  *  None  of  your  lies  ! '  I  cried.  i  Lord 
Godfrey  may  be  dead  or  he  may  not  be  dead,  but 
whichever  he  is,  he  has  a  son  and  a  grandson,  legal 
issue.  You  need  not  suppose  that  I  have  not  kept 
my  eye  on  all  that.'  '  That  may  be,7  said  the  speaking 
attorney;  'but  your  eye  did  n't  keep  the  son  from 
falling  overboard  from  a  collier  in  the  Mersey,  and 
his  infant  son  from  dying  two  weeks  ago  of  cholera 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  67 

infantum,  without  issue.  Whereupon,  "by  the  death 
of  old  Lord  Godfrey  yesterday  morning,  you  are 
Lord  Crabstairs  and  no  mistake.7 

"  Now  then,"  said  the  Englishman,  looking  briskly 
around  at  his  auditors,  "I  was  so  angry  that  I  was 
ready  to  knock  down  those  two  men  right  and  left. 
But  in  England  it  does  not  do  to  lay  hands  on  law 
folk.  I  was  well  up  in  this  Crabstairs  succession, 
you  know.  I  had  studied  it  all  my  life,  and  with 
two  good  lives  between  me  and  the  title  I  felt  safe. 
But  how  could  any  man  imagine  that  such  beastly 
luck  was  coming  to  him !  You  see  the  Crabstairs 
have  been  loaded  with  an  inherited  debt  for  a  long, 
long  time  back,  and  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  years 
there  has  not  been  a  lord  of  the  estate  who  has  lived 
at  Haviltree.  Every  man-jack  of  them,  as  soon  as 
he  came  into  the  title,  was  clapped  into  jail  for  debt. 
There  was  no  getting  out  of  it  except  by  running 
away ;  which  some  of  them  did. 

"The  inherited  debt,  you  know,  was  bigger  than 
any  Crabstairs  could  pay.  The  second  son  of  old 
Lord  Godfrey  took  time  by  the  forelock  and  ran 
away  to  the  Philippine  Islands,  where  he  married 
a  native  wife  and  brought  up  a  large  family.  But 
he  never  had  anything  but  a  heathen  marriage,  for 
fear  that  his  elder  brother  might  die  without  issue 
and  misery  might  come  upon  his  wife's  children." 

"That  was  true  Christianity,"  said  Captain  Teel, 
solemnly. 

" '  Now/  said  the  speaking  attorney  to  me,  i  my 
lord,'  said  he  — '  Don't  my  lord  me  ! '  I  shouted.  1 1 
renounce  the  title !  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  these 


68  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

Crabstairs !  I  am  eleven  removes  from  the  main  line.7 
'  You  can't  renounce  the  title,  my  lord/  said  he.  '  You 
are  the  heir-at-law,  and  there  is  no  getting  out  of  it.7 
Now  the  second  attorney,  who  had  n't  said  anything 
so  far,  spoke  up.  He  took  a  paper  out  of  his  pocket. 
'  Henry,  Lord  Crabstairs  of  Haviltree,  Warwickshire/ 
said  he,  *  I  arrest  you  for  debt  in  the  amount  of  two 
hundred  and  eighty  thousand  pounds,  seven  shill 
ings,  and  sixpence  ha'penny.  And  we  brought  over 
a  constable  in  the  dog-cart,  so  the  easier  you  make 
things  the  better.' 

"  On  hearing  this  I  hurled  my  pint  pot  at  one 
attorney  and  my  pipe  at  the  other,  and  making  a 
dash  at  the  beehives  which  stood  near  by,  I  kicked 
over  a  dozen  of  them.  A  black  cloud  of  savage 
stingers  came  howling  out,  and  as  I  sprang  away  — 
not  one  of  them  after  me,  for  they  knew  their 
master — I  heard  behind  me  such  a  cursing  and 
swearing  and  screaming  as  nearly  split  my  ears.  I 
darted  into  the  garden,  through  the  pea-patch,  and 
over  the  back  fence,  and  made  across  country,  at  a 
pace  those  law  people  could  n't  think  of  keeping  up, 
to  the  railway  station.  I  caught  a  train,  went  to 
town,  drew  all  my  little  income  that  was  due,  and 
took  passage  for  America. 

"  And  here  I  am,  knowing  nothing  in  the  world  of 
what  has  become  of  my  dear  home,  my  cow  and  my 
calf,  of  my  flower-beds  and  my  kitchen  garden,  of 
my  beautiful  flock  of  poultry,  or  of  the  bees  and 
the  attorneys.  I  have  left  everything  behind  me; 
but  there  is  one  thought  that  makes  up  for  a  lot  of 
what  has  happened,  and  that  is  that  for  the  first  time 


THE    MEERY    CH ANTES.  69 

in  many  a  long  year  there  is  no  Lord  Crabstairs  in 
jail  for  debt.  And  what  is  more,"  he  said,  rising  to 
his  feet,  and  his  blue  eyes  sparkling  with  honest 
indignation,  "there  never  will  be,  so  long  as  I  am 
alive ! " 

At  this  Captain  Garnish  came  forward  and  shook 
the  Englishman  by  the  hand,  and  his  example  was 
immediately  followed  by  the  other  captains  and  by 
the  schoolmaster. 

"  I  can  feel  for  you/7  said  the  latter,  "  as  one  who 
flees  from  tyranny.  May  you  never  be  overtaken ! " 

The  butcher  did  not  shake  hands.  That  was  not  his 
way.  He  stood  up  very  straight  and  said:  "May  I 
be  chopped  and  sawed,  bone-drawed  and  skewered,  if 
I  ?d  live  in  a  country  where  a  man  can  be  made  a  lord 
without  his  having  a  word  to  say  about  it !  If  I  found 
myself  in  that  fix,  sir,  debt  or  no  debt,  jail  or  no  jail, 
1 'd  cut  and  run !  I  say  you  did  the  square  thing,  sir! " 

"Do  you  intend,"  asked  Doris,  who  had  listened 
with  eager  earnestness  to  the  Englishman's  story, 
"to  continue  to  call  yourself  Lord  Crabstairs ? " 

"Of  course  I  do,"  said  the  other.  "That  is  my 
name,  and  I  shall  not  disown  it.  I  don't  wish  to 
sail  under  false  colors ;  and  more  than  that,  so  long 
as  it  is  known  that  I  am  alive  and  holding  the 
title  they  can't  nab  any  other  poor  fellow,  perhaps 
with  a  family." 

"Very  good,"  said  Doris 5  "we  understand  your 
case  perfectly.  And  now,"  she  continued,  turning  to 
Captain  Timon,  "  let  us  set  sail." 


VIII 


DOLOR  TRIPP 


UT  Captain  Timon  was  not  yet  ready 
to  set  sail.  The  business  of  water- 
carrying  had  not  gone  on  in  the 
afternoon,  for  the  reason  that  the 
spring  had  become  muddy  by  much 
dipping  and  required  some  time  in 
which  to  settle  and  purify  itself.  Two  casks  had 
been  left  there,  so  it  was  absolutely  necessary  that 
a  boat  should  go  after  them,  and  it  was  now  too  late 
in  the  day  to  make  an  advantageous  trip. 

I  think  Doris's  impatience  would  have  proved 
beyond  her  control  had  not  she  become  interested 
in  a  plan  proposed  by  Lord  Crabstairs.  That  noble 
man  was  of  an  exceedingly  lively  and  practical  dis 
position,  and  took  a  great  interest  in  his  contemplated 
sea  voyage  to  Boston.  He  had  come  into  this  part  of 
the  country  without  other  aim  than  to  escape  cities, 
which  he  hated  ;  and  he  would  not  now  be  going  to 
Boston  but  for  the  opportunity  of  going  by  sea.  He 
was  very  fond  of  the  sea,  and  when  he  had  seen  our 
anchored  ship  he  had  been  fascinated  by  the  idea  of 
sailing  somewhere  in  her. 

70 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  71 

His  desire  now  was  to  plunge  boldly  into  sailor  life, 
to  pull  on  ropes,  to  climb  the  masthead,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing,  and  he  had  been  very  much  taken 
aback  when  the  schoolmaster  informed  him  that 
nothing  of  the  kind  would  be  allowed. 

"  If  you  pay  your  passage,''  said  the  schoolmaster, 
"they  will  not  let  you  do  any  work  at  all;  and  if 
you  sail  gratis,  so  to  speak,  you  can  only  do  enough 
to  pay  for  your  meals." 

The  prospect  of  sailing  without  occupation  appeared 
dull  to  Lord  Crabstairs,  nor  did  the  offer  of  the  school 
master  sometimes  to  allow  him  to  attend  to  the  sand 
piper  promise  much  relief.  But  his  mind  was  as  quick 
and  active  as  his  body. 

"  By  George ! "  he  cried,  t(  I  don't  care  for  birds 
like  that ;  but  I  will  keep  poultry.  Fresh  eggs 
every  morning,  and  roast  fowl  for  dinner.  I  will  go 
on  shore  at  daybreak  to-morrow  and  buy  some." 

The  butcher  here  remarked  that  if  fowls  were  to  be 
killed  he  would  furnish  the  tools,  but  that  was  all  he 
would  do,  as  he  had  gone  out  of  that  business. 

Our  detentions  in  port  had  had  the  effect  of  mak 
ing  Doris  feel  the  need  of  occupation,  and  she  gladly 
welcomed  the  poultry  scheme.  Of  course  there  would 
not  be  time  on  the  voyage  to  hatch  out  little  chickens ; 
but  she  determined,  if  it  were  possible,  to  purchase  for 
herself  a  hen  with  a  young  brood. 

The  discussion  regarding  this  new  scheme  proved 
interesting,  and  the  captains  gave  their  full  consent. 
The  enthusiastic  nobleman  went  so  far  as  to  suggest 
the  purchase  of  a  few  hives  of  bees,  but  this  proposal 
met  with  no  favor.  A  cow  was  spoken  of,  but  here 


72  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

the  butcher  vehemently  objected.  The  time  might 
come,  he  said,  when  she  would  have  to  be  slaugh 
tered,  and  he  vowed  he  would  not  sail  in  company 
with  a  cow  that  might  have  to  be  slaughtered. 

The  first  thing  I  saw  when  I  cast  my  eyes  land 
ward  the  next  morning  was  Lord  Crabstairs  hurry 
ing  over  the  hillocks  towards  the  shore,  and  carrying 
a  pair  of  full-grown  fowls  with  each  hand.  He  had 
rowed  himself  ashore,  and  now  returned  with  his 
prizes. 

"  There  they  are ! n  he  cried,  as  soon  ^  he  reached 
the  deck.  " Three  hens  and  a  cock!  That  was  all 
the  woman  would  sell,  but  she  said  we  might  get 
young  chicks  at  a  house  about  a  mile  farther  inland. 
I  will  go  there  directly  I  Ve  eaten  breakfast.  And 
now  what  are  we  to  do  with  them?  Of  course  it 
won't  do  to  put  up  a  high  fence  all  around  the  deck. 
But  I  dare  say  they  know  as  well  as  we  do  that  they 
can't  swim,  and  so  will  not  jump  overboard.  Any 
way,  here  goes  to  see  what  will  happen."  And  he  cut 
the  cords  which  bound  their  legs. 

Instantly  the  four  fowls  began  to  rush  madly  here 
and  there,  screaming  and  fluttering  their  wings.  The 
cock  flew  half  way  up  one  of  the  shrouds  of  the 
mainmast,  and  sat  there  crowing  and  evidently 
highly  excited,  while  the  three  hens  went  screaming 
down  the  open  hatchway  on  the  forward  deck,  and 
then  after  some  wild  careering  flew  down  another 
hatchway  into  the  hold  among  the  ballast. 

"  That  will  do  very  well,"  said  Lord  Crabstairs.  "  I 
will  throw  them  down  some  bread,  and  there  they 
can  stay  until  we  have  mustered  the  rest  of  the 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  73 

flock.     As  for  the  cock,  if  he  likes  rope  ladders,  he 
is  welcome  to  stop  there  for  the  present." 

"It  is  a  good  thing  he  is  not  an  egg  layer,"  said 
the  schoolmaster. 

After  breakfast  Lord  Crabstairs,  accompanied  by 
Doris,  who  wished  to  select  her  own  brood,  and 
by  myself  and  the  butcher,  went  on  shore  on  an 
expedition  after  poultry. 

The  house  to  which  we  directed  our  steps  was 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  our  landing-place,  and 
when  we  h?j 'approached  near  enough  to  get  a  good 
view  of  it  we  found  it  to  be  a  dark,  somber  building 
without  a  tree  near  it  except  a  great  pine,  which  grew 
so  close  to  one  corner  that  it  seemed  like  a  part  of 
the  house.  As  we  drew  nearer,  Doris  remarked  that 
it  looked  more  like  a  prison  than  a  farm-house. 

At  this  Lord  Crabstairs  laughed  loud,  and  said 
he  hoped  we  should  not  find  it  full  of  jail-birds,  as 
those  were  not  the  ornithological  specimens  we  were 
after. 

As  we  drew  nearer,  the  resemblance  to  a  prison 
increased.  A  high  pale  fence  surrounded  the  house 
yard,  and  we  could  see  that  there  were  iron  bars  to 
the  windows.  The  narrow  gate  which  opened  upon 
the  road  was  locked,  but  a  man  was  at  work  inside, 
and  he  came  and  opened  it.  When  we  told  him  our 
errand  he  at  first  hesitated,  and  then  said  we  must  go 
and  ask  at  the  house. 

In  a  body  we  went  up  a  grass-grown  brick  path  to 
the  front  door,  where  we  knocked.  A  more  dreary 
looking  house  I  never  stood  before.  The  building 
itself  had  a  certain  air  of  importance,  but  the  sur- 


74  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

rounding  grounds  did  not  accord  with  any  such  air. 
They  were  flat,  bare,  and  covered  with  scrubby  grass ; 
not  a  flower-bed  nor  border,  nor  even  a  rose  bush. 
The  thin  grass  which  covered  the  house  yard  had 
recently  been  cut,  and  the  man  was  now  raking  it 
into  meager  little  piles  of  hay.  A  few  out-buildings 
at  a  short  distance  were  separated  from  this  yard  by 
a  high  fence  and  a  gate.  The  building  itself  was 
destitute  of  any  attempt  at  ornament,  not  having  even 
a  piazza. 

After  we  had  waited  some  minutes  the  door  was 
opened  as  far  as  a  stout  chain  would  allow,  and  the 
form  of  a  tall  woman  appeared  at  the  aperture.  She 
wore  a  black-and-white  striped  sunbonnet.  We  saw 
more  of  this  sunbonnet  than  of  her  face. 

Doris  stepped  forward  and  stated  our  errand.  The 
woman  listened,  and  then,  remarking  that  she  would 
see,  shut  the  door  with  a  bang. 

"  Polite,  that ! "  said  Lord  Crabstairs.  "  I  dare  say 
she  is  a  female  convict." 

The  door  was  not  opened  again,  but  presently  there 
came  around  the  corner  another  woman,  also  wearing 
a  black-and-white  sunbonnet ;  but  she  was  shorter  and 
had  a  pleasanter  voice  than  the  other. 

"If  it  ?s  chickens  you  want,"  she  said,  "you  can 
come  this  way.  We  have  some  to  sell."  She  led  the 
way  through  a  gate  to  a  poultry-yard,  where  she 
showed  us  a  variety  of  fowls,  not  one  of  which, 
Lord  Crabstairs  declared,  possessed  a  single  drop  of 
pure  blood.  He  selected,  however,  a  half-dozen  of 
the  best  specimens,  and  Doris  bought  a  hen  with 
nine  little  chicks,  together  with  the  coop,  which,  with 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  75 

its^  occupants,  the  butcher  and  I  undertook  to  carry  to 
the  boat. 

While  we  were  engaged  in  making  our  purchases 
another  woman  came  out  to  the  chicken-yard.  She 
also  wore  a  black-and-white  sunbonnet,  but  she  was 
younger  than  the  two  others,  and  her  face  was  quite 
pretty.  Her  countenance  had  a  pensive  expression, 
but  her  large  gray  eyes  were  quick  and  alert,  and 
moved  with  interest  and  curiosity  from  one  member 
of  our  party  to  another.  She  did  not  speak  during 
the  selection  and  bargaining,  but  observed  every 
thing  that  was  done  and  listened  to  everything  that 
was  said. 

When  we  were  leaving  the  poultry-yard  she 
stepped  up  to  Doris  and  said:  "I  am  glad  you 
wanted  chickens.  I  have  not  seen  a  stranger  since 
March." 

Delighted  to  have  this  opportunity  given  her  to  ask 
questions,  Doris  asked  questions  without  stint. 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  young  woman,  "  my  two  sis 
ters  and  I  live  here  all  alone  by  ourselves.  This  high 
fence  and  the  iron  bars  to  the  lower  windows  are  to 
keep  out  burglars.  Alwilda  —  she  is  the  one  who 
came  to  the  front  door  —  and  Lizeth  —  that  one  over 
there  with  the  chickens  —  are  very  much  afraid  of 
burglars.  There  is  no  man  in  the  house.  Our  hired 
man  sleeps  in  the  barn.  Alwilda  locks  the  two  yard- 
gates  herself  every  night,  so  he  is  shut  out  just  the 
same  as  everybody  else.  My  name  is  Dolor  —  Dolor 
Tripp.  Tripp  is  our  family  name.  Yes,  it  is  dread 
fully  lonely.  We  don't  do  anything  but  just  live  here, 
except  Alwilda ;  she  paints." 


76  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

"Paints!"  exclaimed  Doris  in  surprise,  recalling 
the  figure  of  the  tall  woman  in  the  black-and-white 
sunbonnet. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Dolor  Tripp.  "  She  paints  pictures 
on  the  dining-room  walls.  She  has  gone  only  half 
round  the  room,  and  she  has  been  years  and  years 
at  it.  Sometimes  she  paints  things  she  sees,  and 
sometimes  things  she  remembers.  The  things  she 
remembers  are  done  better  than  the  things  she  sees. 
She  never  goes  outside  this  yard." 

"  And  you  I "  asked  Doris.  "  Have  you  nothing  to 
occupy  your  time  ?  " 

"Not  a  thing,"  replied  the  young  woman,  "except 
housework,  and  that  does  n't  count.  I  should  like 
the  chickens,  but  Lizeth  attends  to  them.  I  hardly 
ever  see  neighbors  or  strangers.  The  minute  I  heard 
that  there  were  people  here  to  buy  chickens  I  came 
straight  out.  I  am  glad  to  see  anybody." 

I  had  joined  the  group,  and  noticed  that  at  these 
words  a  smile  appeared  on  the  hitherto  somewhat 
pensive  countenance  of  the  speaker.  She  looked 
around  and  perceived  that  her  sister  and  Lord 
Crabstairs  had  gone  to  a  little  distance  to  look  at 
some  ducks. 

u  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "  that  over  and  over 
again  I  have  felt  glad  that  that  pine  tree  is  growing 
so  close  to  the  corner  of  the  house.  It  never  enters 
the  minds  of  Alwilda  and  Lizeth  that  there  is  any 
danger  in  it,  but  you  can  see  for  yourselves  that  if 
a  burglar  once  got  into  the  yard  he  could  go  up  that 
tree  just  the  same  as  a  ladder,  and  get  into  that 
second-story  window.  I  have  sat  up  half  the  night 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  77 

wondering  if  a  burglar  ever  would  come  up  that 
tree." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say/'  I  asked,  "  that  your  feeling 
of  loneliness  is  so  great  that  you  would  even  be  glad 
to  see  a  burglar?7' 

"  I  don't  exactly  say  that  I  would  be  glad  to  see 
one,"  answered  Dolor,  "  but  it  would  be  a  change." 

"  You  must  indeed  be  lonely,"  said  Doris,  looking 
upon  the  girl  with  earnest  sympathy,  "  if  you  consider 
a  burglar  better  than  nobody." 

Doris  looked  at  Dolor  Tripp  for  a  few  moments, 
and  then  suddenly  turned  to  me  with  a  light  upon 
her  face.  She  drew  me  aside,  and  whispered:  "A 
glittering  idea  has  just  struck  me.  Suppose  we  pro 
pose  to  her  to  go  with  us!  A  voyage  to  Boston 
would  do  her  no  end  of  good;  and  when  we  came 
back  we  could  leave  her  here  just  as  well  as  not. 
Shall  I  ask  her?" 

There  was  a  deference  in  these  concluding  words 
which  greatly  pleased  me.  As  a  rule  I  did  not  desire 
any  more  women  on  the  Merry  Chanter,  but  this  case 
was  exceptional.  The  passage  money  of  the  young 
woman  would  be  of  service,  it  would  be  an  excellent 
thing  for  Doris  to  have  a  suitable  person  of  her  own 
sex  on  board,  and  it  would  be  true  charity  to  give 
this  poor  girl  a  chance  to  see  something  of  the  world. 
As  to  her  being  a  stranger  to  us,  that  did  not  matter. 
Most  of  us  were  comparative  strangers  to  one  another, 
and  it  is  not  customary  to  inquire  into  the  character 
and  family  antecedents  of  passengers  to  Boston. 

When  Doris  made  her  suggestion  to  Dolor  Tripp 
the  eyes  of  the  latter  opened  wide  and  sparkled. 


78  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

"Go  to  Boston?"  she  cried.  "In  a  ship?  With 
you?  Go?  Why,  I  would  go  if  I  had  to  sell  my 
hair!  But  Alwilda  will  never  agree.  Lizeth  may — 
I  don't  know ;  but  you  can't  move  Alwilda  one  inch. 
But  don't  suppose  I  am  not  going/'  she  added  quickly. 
"  Nothing  would  ever  happen  if  you  waited  for  Alwilda 
to  agree.  When  do  you  start  ? " 

"We  ought  to  set  sail,"  said  Doris,  "very  soon 
after  we  get  to  the  ship.  I  suppose  all  the  water 
must  be  on  board  by  this  time." 

"  Oh,  dear ! "  said  Dolor  Tripp.  "  That  would  be 
dreadfully  soon.  I  don't  see  how  I  could  manage 
it." 

During  our  conversation  with  the  young  woman 
the  butcher  had  been  standing  by,  silent  but  obser 
vant.  He  now  stepped  forward.  "I  don't  believe, 
ma'am,"  he  said,  addressing  Doris,  "  that  we  can  sail 
as  soon  as  we  get  back.  The  skipper  wants  to  go 
out  on  the  ebb,  and  it  must  have  been  high  tide 
two  hours  ago,  so  that  by  the  time  we  are  aboard 
and  everythin'  is  ready  there  won't  be  much  ebb  tide 
to  go  out  on ;  and  it  won't  be  high  water  again  until 
after  dark  to-night.  So  you  see  Cap'n  Timon  is  more 
than  likely  to  want  to  wait  till  to-morrow  mornin' 
anyway." 

"  Well,"  said  Doris,  "  there  is  n't  really  any  reason 
why  we  should  be  in  a  hurry.  Boston  will  keep,  I  've 
no  doubt.  And  if  Captain  Timon  thinks  it  is  better  to 
wait  until  to-morrow  morning,  of  course  we  can  wait 
until  then.  Will  that  suit  you?"  she  said  to  Dolor 
Tripp,  whose  countenance  was  now  glowing  with 
excitement. 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER.  79 

^  That  will  be  time  enough/7  was  the  answer.  "  I 
shall  know  all  about  it  this  afternoon." 

"  Can  you  send  us  word/7  asked  Doris,  "  so  we  may 
know  whether  or  not  to  expect  you  ? n 

Dolor  Tripp  looked  a  little  embarrassed,  but  before 
she  could  speak  the  butcher  said  to  her,  "  Have  you  a 
clock  in  your  house  ? " 

"  Of  course  we  have/'  she  answered  promptly. 

"Well,  then/7  said  he,  "if  you  will  have  a  note 
ready  at  six  o'clock  precisely  I  '11  come  here  and 
get  it." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Dolor  Tripp ;  "  I  '11  have  it  ready. 
It  will  be  better  for  you  to  go  to  the  lower  end  of  the 
yard,  and  I  '11  hand  the  note  to  you  through  the  pal 
ings.  The  gate  is  directly  in  front  of  the  dining-room 
windows." 

Lord  Crabstairs  and  Lizeth  now  returned  to  us, 
his  lordship  having  given  up  the  idea  of  buying 
ducks,  because  there  would  be  no  way  of  allowing 
them  to  swim  except  by  lowering  them  from  the 
ship  by  means  of  a  long  cord;  and  this  would  be 
feasible  only  when  we  were  at  anchor.  The  butcher 
and  I  now  took  up  the  coop  containing  the  hen  and 
chickens,  our  disengaged  hands  each  bearing  a  pair 
of  fowls,  while  his  lordship  carried  the  rest  of  the 
purchased  poultry,  gallantly  declining  to  allow  Doris 
to  bear  the  weight  of  even  the  smallest  pullet. 

We  left  behind  us  two  happy  sisters,  one  placidly 
smiling  over  the  results  of  an  unusually  profitable 
sale,  and  the  other  glowing  with  the  anticipation  of 
unknown  joys. 


IX 


THE   MERRY  CHANTER  AND   THE   TIDE 


LITTLE  before  dark  that  afternoon 
the  butcher  appeared  before  Doris 
and  me  on  the  after  portion  of  the 
deck  and  made  his  report. 

"I  got  to  that  house,"  he  said, 
"  at  a  quarter  before  six ;  and  as  I 
was  a  little  ahead  of  time  I  waited  outside  the 
pale  fence,  keeping  some  bushes  between  me  and 
the  house.  Pretty  soon  that  Dolor  sister  came  out 
and  began  walking  straight  down  to  the  corner  of 
the  fence ;  but  before  she  got  there  the  Lizeth  sister 
she  came  out,  and  then  the  Dolor  sister  she  turned 
straight  towards  the  chicken-yard,  and  going  inside 
the  feed-house  she  came  out  with  her  apron  full  of 
corn  and  began  feeding  the  chickens  right  and  left 
like  mad ;  and  the  Lizeth  sister  she  called  out  to  her 
to  stop  wasting  corn  that  way,  and  she  went  and  took 
the  corn  from  her  and  began  to  attend  to  the  chick 
ens  herself.  Then  the  Dolor  sister  she  went  walking 
about  picking  the  weed  blossoms,  throwing  ?em  down 
again  and  picking  more,  and  all  the  time  moving 
down  towards  the  fence ;  and  the  minute  the  Lizeth 
sister  locked  the  poultry-yard  and  went  into  the 
house  the  Dolor  one  came  straight  to  the  corner 


THE    MEERY   CHANTER.  81 

where  she  said  she  'd  meet  me,  and  there  I  was.  She 
put  this  note  between  the  palings,  and  says  she,  *  Is 
there  any  way  of  getting  a  trunk  from  this  house 
to  your  ship  to-night  ? '  l  Unbeknown  ! '  says  I.  i  Yes,' 
said  she;  'at  least  nobody  here  must  know  it.7   'Then 
you  are  going  with  us  to  Boston  V  says  I.     'Yes, 
indeed,  I  am/  says  she ;  '  but  there  will  be  no  trouble 
about  me.    It 's  only  the  trunk/     '  Then  your  sisters 
are  not  willing?'  says  I.     'They  would  n't  be  if  I 
told 'em,' says  she, 'and  so  I  don't  intend  to  tell  'em. 
They  have  n't  the  least  right  in  the  world  over  me, 
for  I  am  of  age  j  but  they  'd  make  a  lot  of  trouble  if 
they  knew  I  wanted  to  go  to  Boston,  and  I  don't 
want  to  have   any   more  trouble   than   I  can  help 
having.'     '  When  will  your  trunk  be  ready  ? '  says  I, 
'and  where  will  it  be?'    'There  's  an  empty  one  in 
a  lower  room,'  says  she ;  '  and  after  it  gets  pitch-dark 
I  can  put  it  outside  by  the  back  door,  and  then  I  can 
bring  my  things  down  and  put  them  in  it,  but  I  can't 
move  it  after  that.'     'At  what  time  will  it  be  all 
packed  and  locked  and  at  the  back  door?'  says  I. 
'Certainly  by  twelve  o'clock/  says  she.      'Then  at 
one  o'clock,'  says  I,  'it  will  be  on  board  the  ship.' 
'That  is  beautiful,'  says  she;   'and  as  soon  as  the 
lower  gate  is  unlocked  for  the  hired  man  in  the 
morning,  I  '11  walk  through  the  chicken-yard  and 
around  the  sand  hills  till  I  am  out  of  sight  of  the 
house  and  then  go  straight  to  the  shore.'     'Where 
there  '11  be  a  boat  to  meet  you,'  says  I.    Then  she 
said  she  supposed  I  was  the  cap'n,  and  on  being  told 
not  thanked  me  all  the  same  and  left  sharp.    And 
here  's  the  note." 


82  THE    MERRY   CHANTER. 

With  the  exception  of  the  statement  that  the 
writer  would  bring  money  to  pay  her  passage,  the 
note  contained  nothing  that  the  butcher  had  not 
told  us. 

"  I  like  her  spirit,"  said  Doris.  "  If  she  is  of  age 
there  is  no  reason  why  she  should  n't  go  to  Boston, 
or  anywhere  else  she  wants  to.  But  how  in  the  world 
is  her  trunk  to  be  got  here?  The  gates  will  be 
locked." 

"  The  schoolmaster  and  me,"  said  the  butcher, 
"  will  attend  to  the  trunk.  He  won't  be  afraid  to 
go  on  shore  when  it  is  pitch-dark,  and  I  '11  take  a 
bull's-eye  lantern  to  use  when  needed." 

This  being  settled,  Doris  and  I  went  below  to 
arrange  for  the  accommodation  of  the  new-comer. 
There  was  a  little  cabin  back  of  our  own,  which  we 
appropriated  to  Dolor  Tripp.  Its  space  was  extremely 
limited,  but  we  could  do  no  better  for  her. 

Lord  Crabstairs  had  been  so  exceedingly  busy  in 
arranging  accommodations  for  the  poultry  on  the 
deck,  and  in  endeavoring  to  entice  from  the  rig 
ging  the  cock  which  had  first  arrived  on  board,  that 
he  did  not  know  of  the  arrangements  that  had  been 
made  for  the  transfer  of  the  baggage  of  Dolor  Tripp. 
Otherwise,  as  he  informed  us  next  morning,  he 
would  have  been  on  hand,  for  a  lark  like  that  was 
much  to  his  liking. 

The  butcher  and  the  schoolmaster  must  have  had 
a  hard  time  with  the  trunk,  but  they  succeeded  in 
getting  it  over  the  high  fence,  and  by  one  o'clock, 
as  had  been  promised,  it  was  on  board  the  Merry 
Chanter. 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  83 

Doris  and  I  arose  very  early  the  next  morning,  and 
it  could  not  have  been  more  than  half -past  six  when 
we  beheld  Dolor  Tripp  coming  down  to  the  shore 
with  a  parasol  in  one  hand  and  a  little  leather  bag  in 
the  other.  Lord  Crabstairs  was  standing  near  us, 
and  the  moment  his  eyes  fell  upon  her  he  gave  a 
jump. 

" I  '11  take  a  boat  and  fetch  her,"  said  he.  "I  can  do 
that  much,  anyway." 

"  Stop  ! "  cried  Doris.  "  I  do  not  think  that  would 
be  fair.  After  all  the  butcher's  trouble  about  her  he 
should  have  the  pleasure  of  bringing  her  over  in 
the  boat." 

"  I  don't  quite  see  the  point  of  that,"  said  Lord  Crab- 
stairs.  "  '  Turn  about  is  fair  play.' " 

"  That  would  be  no  turn  about  at  all,"  said  Doris ; 
"  but  we  have  no  time  to  argue  this  matter,  for  Dolor 
Tripp  will  get  down  to  the  water's  edge  and  find 
nobody  to  bring  her  over.  So,  as  I  command  the  Merry 
Chanter,  and  everybody  in  it,  I  am  obliged  to  say  to 
you,  Lord  Crabstairs,  that  you  cannot  go  after  that 
young  woman  unless  the  butcher  is  willing." 

It  struck  me  that  this  was  a  moment  when  a  word 
from  me  seemed  to  be  called  for,  but  I  could  not  make 
up  my  mind  what  sort  of  word  to  speak. 

Lord  Crabstairs  made  a  very  low  bow.  "  Madam," 
said  he,  "  I  submit ;  and  I  will  go  find  the  butcher  and 
see  if  he  will  give  me  his  chance." 

In  about  a  minute  the  butcher  appeared  from  below, 
and  made  instant  preparations  to  descend  into  the 
boat  which  was  tied  to  the  schooner's  stern.  "  It  will 
be  much  better,"  he  said,  "  for  some  one  who  knows 


84  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

her  to  go  after  her.     She  may  not  like  to  be  brought 
over  by  a  stranger." 

"  i  Know  her  !  >  <  Stranger  ! '  Bedad,  I  like  that !  " 
ejaculated  Lord  Crabstairs,  as  the  butcher  rowed 
away.  "  He  rows  very  well  for  a  butcher,  now, 
does  n't  he?  I  don't  believe  a  man  who  rows  as 
well  as  that  can  be  a  very  good  butcher.  Now,  do 
you,  Madam?" 

"I  do  declare,"  exclaimed  Doris,  without  paying 
any  attention  to  this  inquiry,  "  she  really  does  seem 
delighted  to  see  him  !  And  I  am  so  glad  she  has  on 
that  pretty  straw  hat.  I  was  afraid  she  would  come  in 
her  black-and-white  sunbonnet." 

The  shore  was  but  a  short  distance  away,  and  very 
soon  Dolor  Tripp  was  on  board  the  Merry  Chanter. 
She  was  cordially  received  by  the  owners,  the  four 
captains,  and  the  passengers,  and  shook  hands  all 
round. 

"  And  now,"  cried  Doris,  "  we  must  up  anchor, 
hoist  sail,  and  be  away  without  loss  of  time.  I  long 
to  be  out  on  the  rolling  deep." 

But  Captain  Timon  shook  his  head.  "  The  tide 
does  n't  serve  this  mornin',  Madam,"  said  he. 

"  Oh,  bother  the  tide  !  "  cried  Doris.     "  I  never  saw" 
anything  like  it.     But  I  beg  you  will  make  a  start 
the  instant  it  does  serve."    And  with  this  she  took 
Dolor  Tripp  down  below  to  show  her  the  arrange 
ments  that  had  been  made  for  her  accommodation. 

Lord  Crabstairs,  who  was  an  active  fellow,  now 
mounted  aloft  to  compel  the  truant  cock  to  get  down 
from  its  elevated  position  in  the  rigging,  while  the 
schoolmaster,  carrying  the  sandpiper  in  its  cage, 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  85 

appeared  on  deck  and  proceeded  to  give  the  usual 
morning  attentions  to  the  wounded  bird. 

The  butcher,  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  an  ex 
pression  of  earnest  thought  on  his  face,  came  after 
me.  Meeting  me  at  the  extreme  stern  of  the  vessel, 
he  said  in  a  low  voice :  "  Do  you  know  that  I  have 
got  some  ideas  about  this  schooner  ?  We  have  been 
lying  here  more  than  three  days,  and  in  all  that  time 
I  don't  believe  she  's  moved  around  with  the  tide 
any  more  than  that  stump  there  on  shore  has  moved 
around  with  it.  Tide  in  and  tide  out,  twice  a  day 
each  way,  and  she  's  been  lying  here  with  her  bow 
sprit  pointing  out  to  sea  and  her  rudder  pointing 
into  shore  with  never  a  shift  one  way  or  the  other. 
Now  it  stands  to  reason,  I  take  it,  that  if  a  schooner 
like  this  could  move  with  the  tide  she  would  move 
with  it  j  and  as  she  does  n't  move  with  it,  it  stands  to 
reason  she  can't  move  with  it." 

"  I  never  thought  of  that ! "  I  exclaimed  in  surprise. 
"  But,  since  you  spea.k  of  it,  I  believe  it  is  so.  What 
do  you  suppose  it  means  ? " 

"  Means  ? "  replied  the  butcher,  looking  around  him 
and  speaking  in  lower  tones.  "I  '11  tell  you  what  I 
believe  it  means.  I  think  that  we  are  stuck  fast  to 
the  bottom  of  this  bay.  When  they  first  came  in 
they  put  out  their  anchor,  and  then  the  schooner, 
most  likely,  swung  around  on  to  a  sand  bar,  and 
stuck  tight  and  fast.  If  she  has  n't  done  that,  what 's 
to  hinder  her  moving  with  the  tide?" 

"But   the  captains?"  I  said.      "If  the  ship  were 
aground  they  would  mention  it.     They  would  do 
something." 
8 


86  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

"  They  are  not  much  on  the  mention,"  said  the 
butcher  j  "  and  as  to  do,  they  've  been  hoping  every 
high  tide  would  float  her  off.  I  would  have  been  on 
deck  this  morning  when  the  Dolor  sister  showed 
on  shore  if  I  had  n't  been  listening  to  the  cap'ns' 
talk  about  some  particular  high  tide  that  conies  with 
a  particular  quarter  of  the  moon.  I  was  called  off 
and  did  n't  make  out  what  quarter  it  was,  but  I 
believe  they  're  waiting  for  it." 

"  If  that  is  the  case,"  said  I,  "  I  hope  most  earnestly 
that  it  is  not  far  off." 

"  There  's  no  knowing,"  said  the  butcher,  rather 
lugubriously.  "  I  don't  care  to  ask  'em  about  it, 
for  it  's  their  business  to  sail  the  ship,  not  mine. 
But  there  's  one  thing  I  do  know,  and  that  is  when 
an  old  schooner  like  this,  with  some  seventy  cart 
loads  of  paving  stones  inside  of  her,  and  barnacles 
outside  that  will  weigh  about  as  much,  settles  on  a 
sand  bank,  she  '11  want  a  special  high  tide  to  come 
along  at  its  earliest  convenience  if  she  ever  expects  to 
float  at  all." 

I  gazed  gloomily  over  the  stern.  The  little  boat 
was  gently  pulling  at  her  painter  as  the  tide  impelled 
her  seaward,  but  the  Merry  Chanter  kept  its  position 
like  a  Horse  Guard  on  sentry  duty.  "At  any  rate," 
I  said,  "  it  will  be  of  no  use  to  worry  the  ladies  with 
our  conjectures." 

"  I  am  with  you  there,"  said  the  butcher.  "  It 
would  n't  be  my  way  to  trouble  them  or  anybody 
else.  But  it  strikes  me  that  we  '11  find  things  pretty 
crooked  when  we  eat  up  all  our  provisions  before 
we  ?ve  sailed  an  inch  to  Boston,  and  the  news  gets 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  87 

abound  that  we  're  aground  in  Shankashank  Bay, 
and  Mrs.  Bodship  comes  after  the  schoolmaster,  and 
either  carries  him  off,  and  perhaps  Cap'n  Cyrus  too, 
or  else  stays  on  board  herself,  which  would  be  an 
everlasting  sight  worse,  and  the  Alwilda  sister  and 
the  Lizeth  sister  come  after  Dolor  Tripp,  and  Lord 
Crabstairs  gets  kidnapped  for  the  family  debts  while 
wandering  on  shore.'7 


X 


LORD  CRABSTAIES  AND  THE  BUTCHER 
MAKE  AN  AGREEMENT 


"HEN  Dolor  Tripp  came 
on  deck  after  breakfast 
on  the  morning  of  her  arrival 
on  board  the  Merry  Chanter 
she  was   in   a  state   of 
intense  delight    with 
her  surroundings.  She 
was  going  to  sea  in  a 
ship!     She  had  been 
on  the  bay  in  a  boat, 
but  never  on  the  sea 

Captain  Bodship.  in  a  ship  J  And  what 

was  this  for  —  and  that  ?  And  how  different  the  air 
was,  even  such  a  little  way  from  shore ! 

When  Doris  told  her  how  we  came  to  own  the 
Merry  Chanter,  and  had  talked  to  her  about  the  four 
captains,  and  about  the  butcher,  and  about  Lord 
Crabstairs,  and  about  the  schoolmaster,  Dolor  Tripp 
declared  that  that  ship  was  the  most  interesting  place 
she  had  ever  been  in  in  her  whole  life. 

She  was  in  no  hurry  to  start,  and  was  perfectly 
willing  to  wait  for  the  tide.  Being  on  board  the  ship 
was  joy  enough  for  the  present.  She  asked  questions 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  89 

about  every  part  of  the  vessel ;  and  although  the  four 
captains  would  have  been  the  proper  persons  to  an 
swer  these  questions,  these  experienced  mariners 
were  not  allowed  the  opportunity  of  so  doing.  Lord 
Crabstairs  and  the  butcher  always  happened  to  be 
near  at  hand  when  Dolor  Tripp  wanted  to  know 
anything ;  and  sometimes  both  answered  her  ques 
tion  in  the  same  instant,  while  sometimes  one  got  a 
little  ahead  of  the  other. 

Towards  noon,  however,  I  noticed  that  Dolor  Tripp 
was  walking  about  the  after  portion  of  the  ship 
accompanied  only  by  Lord  Crabstairs,  and  soon 
afterwards  I  found  that  he  and  the  butcher  had 
come  to  an  agreement  on  the  subject.  A  chalk  line 
had  been  drawn  across  the  deck  midway  between  the 
bow  and  the  stern,  and  it  had  been  settled  that  Lord 
Crabstairs  should  explain  to  Dolor  Tripp  everything 
aft  of  that  line,  while  the  butcher  should  have  the 
privilege  of  being  her  guide  over  that  portion  of 
the  schooner  which  lay  forward  of  the  line.  By  this 
amicable  arrangement  annoying  interferences  would 
be  avoided. 

Lord  Crabstairs,  with  his  glowing,  ruddy  face,  and 
his  sparkling  blue  eyes,  was  in  a  very  good  humor  as 
he  told  his  companion  everything  he  knew  about  the 
after  portion  of  the  ship,  and  a  great  deal,  I  am  sure, 
that  he  did  not  know.  But  want  of  knowledge  did 
not  interfere  in  the  least  with  the  fluency  of  his  merry 
talk,  nor  with  her  enjoyment. 

For  some  time  the  butcher  had  been  below,  but 
now  he  came  up  and  informed  Doris  and  me  that 
he  had  been  consulting  with  Captain  Cyrus,  and 


90  THE    MERRY   CHANTER. 

getting  as  much  information  as  possible  in  regard  to 
foremasts  and  bowsprits,  with  their  attachments  and 
surroundings,  so  that  when  his  turn  to  guide  the 
young  woman  should  come  he  would  be  able  to  give 
her  points  that  might  be  depended  upon.  When  he 
and  Lord  Crabstairs  had  tossed  up  for  the  two  por 
tions  into  which  the  ship  had  been  divided  by  the 
chalk  line  he  had  been  very  glad  that  the  bow  end 
had  fallen  to  him. 

"  Passengers,"  said  he,  "  are  mostly  at  sterns,  and 
bows  are  newer  to  them.  And,  besides,  the  Merry 
Chanter  is  on  my  end,  and  I  intend  to  come  out 
strong  on  that  dilapidated  old  party.  I  think  she  's 
the  kind  of  young  woman  to  take  to  things  that  are 
on  the  romantic." 

But  he  did  not  intend  to  begin  with  her  as  soon  as 
Lord  Crabstairs  had  finished.  No,  indeed!  He  was 
too  deep  for  that !  He  would  take  her  when  she  was 
fresh,  and  not  so  bored  with  ropes  and  spars  that  she  did 
not  wish  to  hear  such  things  even  so  much  as  mentioned. 

It  was  yet  early  in  the  afternoon,  and  we  were 
enjoying  ourselves  idly  on  deck,  some  reading,  some 
smoking  and  talking,  and  nearly  all  of  us  in  the 
shade  of  the  mainsail,  which  had  been  partly  hoisted 
to  serve  the  purpose  of  an  awning.  Even  the  butcher 
was  content  to  gaze  quietly  out  at  sea,  for,  in  his 
opinion,  Dolor  Tripp  had  not  yet  sufficiently  recov 
ered  from  her  ordeal  of  the  morning  properly  to 
enjoy  his  interesting  accounts  of  the  nautical  ob 
jects  forward  of  the  chalk  line.  Suddenly  there  came 
from  landward  a  shrill  voice  5  and  the  voice  cried, 
"Do  — lo r!" 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  91 

Instantly  we  all  sprang  to  our  feet,  bobbed  under 
the  boom,  and  ran  for  the  stern  of  the  schooner.  On 
shore,  close  to  the  water's  edge,  stood  a  woman  in  a 
black-and-white  sunbounet,  who  was  easily  recognized 
by  those  who  had  seen  her  before  as  Lizeth  of  the 
poultry-yard. 

Again  came  the  voice  across  the  water:  "Dol — or! 
Are  you  on  that  ship  ? " 

Dolor  Tripp  stood  on  tiptoe  and  showed  herself 
well  above  the  bulwarks.  "  Don't  you  see  me,  Liz 
eth?77  she  cried. 

The  distance  between  the  ship  and  the  shore  was 
not  great ;  and  as  there  was  but  little  wind  the  clear, 
high  voices  of  the  sisters  were  distinctly  heard  across 
the  intervening  space. 

"  Where-are-you-going  ?  "  cried  Lizeth. 

"  I-am-going-to-Boston,"  replied  her  sister. 

"  How-long-do-you-expect-to-stay  ?  "  cried  Lizeth. 

Dolor  Tripp  turned  to  Doris.  "  How  long  do  you 
think/7  she  said,  "  that  the  ship  will  stay  in  Boston  ? 
You  know  I  want  to  come  back  in  it." 

"  I  really  do  not  know,"  was  the  answer ;  "  but  we 
shall  certainly  stay  long  enough  to  take  on  board 
some  barrels  of  flour." 

Then  Dolor  Tripp  turned  her  face  shoreward,  and 
hailed  her  sister.  "  I-do-not-know,"  she  cried.  "  It- 
depends-on-flour." 

"  What-flour  ? "  screamed  Lizeth. 

Dolor  Tripp  turned  inquiringly.  "  Minnesota  Fam 
ily  Joy,"  said  I,  for  want  of  better  information  to 
give. 

"  Min-ne-so-ta-Fam-i-ly- Joy,"  screamed  Dolor  Tripp. 


92  THE    MERRT   CHANTER. 

Lizeth  did  not  immediately  resume  her  questions, 
but  after  a  few  moments' thought  she  cried,  "Why- 
don't-you-start  ? " 

"  There  -  is  -  some  -  thing  -  the  -  matter  -  with  -  the  -  tid  e," 
replied  Dolor  Tripp. 

Here  there  was  another  pause  in  this  high-strung 
conversation,  and  several  persons  on  board  the  Merry 
Chanter  looked  at  one  another  and  smiled. 

Lizeth  now  called  out  again,  "  Will-you-get-me-in- 
Boston-four-yards-of-the-inch-wide-black-and- white- 
ribbon  t " 

"  I- will ! "  cried  Dolor  Tripp.  "  Does-Alwilda-know- 
I-Ve-gone  ? " 

"  Yes,"  called  back  Lizeth.  "  She-7s-begun-painting- 
you-on-the-dining-room-wall.  You-are-stretched-out- 
drowned-on- the-sea-  shore.  Your-f  ace-is- all-soaked- 
and-there-?s- little-  slimy-  green- weeds-flappin'-against- 
it.  She-was- just  -beginnin7  -to  -paint-  a -puddle-  under- 
you-when-I-came-away.  Good-bye ! " 

"  Now,  is  n't  that  mean  f  "  said  Dolor  Tripp,  turning 
a  troubled  countenance  towards  us,  and  then,  sud 
denly  recollecting  herself,  she  called  after  her  depart 
ing  sister  a  shrill,  "  Good-bye  !  " 

"I  notice,"  remarked  the  butcher,  as  he  cast  a  severe 
look  shoreward,  "  that  she  did  n't  say  anything  about 
the  weeds  and  the  puddle  till  she  ?d  got  in  her  black- 
and-white  ribbon." 

In  order  to  dissipate  from  her  mind  all  thoughts  of 
the  dismal  picture  of  herself  which  was  in  course 
of  creation  upon  the  dining-room  wall  of  her  home, 
the  butcher  now  invited  Dolor  Tripp  to  allow  him 
to  show  her  that  portion  of  the  Merry  Chanter  which 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  93 

lay  forward  of  the  chalk  line.  The  invitation  was 
accepted,  and  from  the  general  appearance  of  things 
forward  I  think  that  Dolor  Tripp's  enjoyment  was 
troubled  by  no  visions  of  soaked  countenances. 

The  captains  were  on  the  forecastle,  and  as  they 
all  knew  something  about  Dolor  Tripp  or  her  family, 
they  had  frequent  snatches  of  talk  about  her.  Lord 
Crabstairs  and  the  schoolmaster  took  to  wandering 
about  the  bow,  but  the  former  never  uttered  a  word. 
He  had  agreed  that  the  butcher  should  take  charge 
of  the  lady  on  this  part  of  the  ship,  and  he  religiously 
forbore  to  speak. 

When  the  butcher  and  his  fair  companion  leaned 
over  the  extreme  bow,  and  he  began  to  describe  and 
descant  upon  the  wooden  figure  of  the  Merry  Chanter, 
Doris,  who  had  gone  forward,  requested  permission 
to  listen,  which,  being  cheerfully  granted,  we  all  gath 
ered  about  the  speaker. 

It  is  astonishing  how  well  that  butcher  talked  about 
our  old  figure-head.  He  let  himself  out  splendidly 
about  roaring  winds  and  mountain  waves,  and  driv 
ing  rain  and  freezing  sleet,  and  banks  of  blinding 
fog,  and  yet  ever  that  right  arm,  or  what  there  was 
left  of  it,  was  stuck  straight  out,  and  that  head  was 
thrown  back  boldly,  and  that  mouth  was  open  ready 
for  song,  or  shout,  or  to  take  in  sea-water,  as  the  case 
might  be. 

"He  has  been  through  it  all,  time  and  again,"  said 
the  butcher,  in  conclusion,  "and  he  is  ready  for  it 
all  over  again,  fair  weather  or  foul,  as  long  as  those 
iron  bolts  through  his  body  hold  him  fast  to  the  ship." 

"I  love  him  already,"  cried  Dolor  Tripp;   "and 


94  THE    MERRY   CHANTER. 

as  soon  as  we  begin  to  plow  the  waves  I  am  going 
to  stand  in  front  here  and  see  him  do  those  things." 

"  Of  course,"  remarked  Captain  Timon,  "  that  will 
depend  on  the  principal  owner" — waving  his  hand 
towards  Doris.  "  I  have  heard  her  say  that  she 
wanted  to  stand  abaft  the  figure-head  when  there 
happened  to  be  a  good  sea  on." 

"  Oh,  there  will  be  room  for  us  both,"  said  Doris,  who 
had  already  begun  to  take  very  kindly  to  Dolor  Tripp. 


XI 


THE   PROMENADE   BATH 


HE  next  morning  after  breakfast 
Captain  Timon  made  a  little  speech 
to  the  assembled  ship's  company. 
"  I  feel  bound,"  he  said,  "  to  tell 
you  all  that  I  ?ve  been  disappointed 
in  the  wind  an7  the  tide.  They  are 
two  things  which  won't  wait  fur  no  man,  but  they  're 
willin'  enough  to  make  any  man  wait  fur  them,  an' 
that  's  not  what  I  call  the  square  thing." 

"You  are  right  there,  Captain,"  said  Lord  Crab- 
stairs  ;  "  but  the  rascals  have  been  at  it  all  their  lives, 
and  it  is  too  late  to  try  to  reform  them." 

"This  schooner,"  continued  the  captain,  "draws 
a  leetle  more  water  than  we  thought  she  did.  You 
see  none  of  us  ever  sailed  in  her  before,  an'  she 
draws  a  leetle  more  water  than  we  thought  she  did. 
An'  then  ag'in  there  's  a  leetle  less  water  in  this  bay 
than  there  generally  is  at  this  season.  You  see  when 
we  anchored  here  to  get  water  out  of  that  spring  we 
did  n't  know  that  the  ship  drawed  so  much,  an'  the 
bay  was  so  low." 

"  Then,"  interrupted  Lord  Crabstairs,  "you  should  get 
more  water  out  of  your  spring  and  pour  it  into 
your  bay." 

95 


96  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

Captain  Timon  joined  in  the  laugh  that  followed 
this  remark,  and  then  went  on : 

"  What  we  want  is  a  high  wind,  pretty  nigh  to  a 
gale,  comin'  in  from  sea  along  with  the  flood  tide. 
That  will  give  us  enough  water  to  get  out  of  this 
bay,  an7  then  we  're  all  right.  That  half-gale  from 
the  sou'east  is  what  we  're  a-waitin7  fur." 

"  That  sort  of  gale/7  said  the  butcher,  "  most  gener 
ally  comes  in  the  fall  of  the  year." 

" That  is  autumn,  is  n't  it?"  cried  Lord  Crabstairs. 
"Now,  really,  that  is  three  months  off  ! " 

"  If  you  'd  sailed  the  sea  as  much  as  we  have,"  said 
Captain  Timon,  addressing  the  butcher,  "  you  'd  have 
know'd  that  them  gales  blows  whenever  they  've  a 
mind  to.  That  7s  their  rule ;  whenever  they  ;ve  a  mind 
to.  Now  there  's  just  two  things  we  can  do;  an'  one 
of  them  is  to  get  a  vessel  that  don't  draw  so  much 
water ;  Cap7n  Teel  has  got  one  to  hire.  She  's  a  sloop, 
and  a  good  one.  He  can  bring  her  round  here,  an' 
we  can  put  our  stores  into  her  an'  sail  to  Boston 
without  no  trouble  at  all." 

At  this  point  there  was  a  general  outcry.  "  Sail  in 
another  ship  ! "  cried  Doris.  "  Never !  It  is  not  the 
voyage  to  Boston  I  care  about ;  it  is  the  voyage  there 
in  our  Merry  Chanter." 

I  joined  in  the  remonstrance.  Lord  Crabstairs 
vowed  that  he  was  in  no  hurry,  and  could  wait  for 
a  wind  as  long  as  anybody  else.  And  Dolor  Tripp 
asserted  with  considerable  warmth  that  if  she  could 
not  sail  behind  that  bold,  wooden  singer  of  the  sea 
she  did  ncc  wish  to  sail  at  all. 

The  butcher  had  been  gazing  intently  upon  first 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  97 

and  then  another  of  us ;  and  when  Dolor  Tripp 
had  said  her  say  he  spoke  out  fully  and  definitely. 
"I  stick  to  the  ship,"  said  he. 

The  schoolmaster  made  no  remark.  He  was  not 
now  so  uneasy  as  he  had  been  at  first,  but  it  was 
plain  enough  that  he  wished  to  sail  away,  no  matter 
in  what  vessel. 

"  Well,  then/7  now  continued  Captain  Timon,  "  as 
none  of  you  seems  to  want  to  leave  the  schooner, 
there  7s  another  thing  you  can  do.  You  can  just 
make  yourselves  comfortable  an7  wait  fur  the  gale 
with  a  flood  tide.  Some  of  you  can  take  the  boat  an' 
go  fishin7 ;  some  of  you  can  walk  about  on  shore ; 
an7  if  any  of  you  wants  to  hire  a  horse  you  can  do  it 
over  there  in  the  village.  If  there  7s  a  special  high 
tide  when  you  are  not  aboard  I  '11  just  run  the 
schooner  out  into  deeper  water  an7  fire  a  gun  and 
wait  fur  you.77 

This  plan  was  instantaneously  agreed  upon,  and  to 
prove  that  we  were  perfectly  contented  with  the  Merry 
Chanter  ^  we  all  set  about  to  amuse  ourselves. 

Lord  Crabstairs  went  to  look  after  his  poultry. 
These  were  mostly  scattered  about  the  deck,  none  of 
them  having  courage  to  fly  overboard ;  but  some  had 
gone  out  on  the  bowsprit,  and  the  truant  cock  was 
still  in  the  rigging.  His  master  had  vainly  endeav 
ored  to  coax  him  down,  and  was  obliged  to  put 
his  corn  on  the  cross-trees,  where  it  was  contentedly 
pecked  up.  Doris  applied  herself  to  the  care  of  her 
little  chicks  and  their  mother ;  three  of  the  captains 
went  ashore  in  the  boat;  the  butcher  was  making 
some  remarks  to  me  in  regard  to  the  improbability 
9 


98  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

of  the  schooner's  moving  from  her  present  position 
without  leaving  behind  her  her  hold,  her  paving- 
stones,  and  her  barnacles;  and  what  Dolor  Tripp 
was  looking  at  in  the  water  I  do  not  know,  but  sud 
denly  her  little  boots,  in  which  she  was  standing 
tiptoe,  slipped  backward,  and  in  an  instant  she 
disappeared  over  the  side  of  the  vessel. 

I  gave  a  shout  and  rushed  for  the  spot  where  she 
had  been  leaning  over  the  bulwark.  Doris,  startled 
by  the  great  splash,  was  by  my  side  in  a  moment. 
Looking  down  with  pallid  faces  we  saw  below  us 
what  appeared  like  the  surface  of  a  boiling  pot  some 
five  feet  wide.  Out  of  the  tossing  turmoil  of  the 
water  now  arose  the  dripping  head,  shoulders,  and 
arms  of  Dolor  Tripp,  who  had  succeeded  in  strug 
gling  to  her  feet  and  who  stood  upright,  puffing  and 
blowing  the  water  from  her  mouth,  wildly  waving 
her  hands,  and  endeavoring  to  scream. 

In  the  next  instant  there  were  two  great  splashes, 
and  the  butcher  and  Lord  Crabstairs  went  overboard. 
Each  of  them  was  under  water  for  an  instant,  and 
then  emerging  upright  they  swashed  towards  the 
dripping  maiden  and  each  took  her  by  an  arm. 

"  You  are  as  safe  now/'  exclaimed  Lord  Crabstairs, 
sputtering  as  he  spoke,  "  as  if  you  were  high  and  dry 
on  shore." 

"  Unless  we  sink  in  the  sand,"  said  the  butcher. 

But  Dolor  Tripp  paid  no  attention  to  similes  and 
suppositions.  "  Oh,  get  me  out ! "  she  cried.  "  Get 
me  out!" 

Those  of  us  who  were  on  deck  soon  discovered  that 
it  would  not  be  easy  to  get  her  out.  There  was  one 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 


99 


broad  ladder  with  hand-rails  by  which  we  descended 
into  or  ascended  from  the  one  boat  which  belonged 
to  the  Mernj  Chanter,  and  this  ladder  had  been  taken 
ashore  in  the  boat  by  the  three  captains  who  had 


The  Promenade  Bath. 

gone  for  fuel,  and  who  proposed  to  use  it  when 
sawing  off  such  lower  branches  of  trees  as  might  be 
small  enough  to  suit  their  purpose.  The  idea  that 
anybody  might  want  the  ladder  while  they  were 


100  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

gone  never  entered  the  minds  of  these  wood-cutting 
mariners. 

Captain  Teel,  who  was  left  on  board,  was  not  very 
fertile  in  expedients.  He  proposed  hauling  up  the 
young  woman  by  means  of  a  rope;  and  when  the 
butcher  declared  that  if  this  were  done  she  would 
be  cut  to  pieces  by  the  barnacles,  the  captain  sug 
gested  that  if  a  spar  were  put  out  at  an  angle,  with 
one  end  held  down  to  the  bottom  and  the  other  rest 
ing  on  the  side  of  the  vessel,  she  might  climb  on 
board  without  touching  the  barnacles. 

This  proposition  meeting  with  no  approval,  the 
captain  stated  that  the  proper  thing  to  do  was  to 
put  a  block-and-tackle  out  at  the  end  of  a  boom  and 
haul  her  up  that  way,  but  that  as  he  was  the  only 
seaman  on  board  he  did  not  like  to  undertake  this 
job  by  himself.  He  might  put  a  barrel  of  fish  on 
board  that  way,  but  it  would  take  a  good  deal  of 
careful  hauling  and  steering  to  prevent  a  dangling 
young  woman  from  getting  bumped.  He  rather 
guessed  that  the  boat  would  be  back  pretty  soon, 
and  that  the  best  thing  to  do  would  be  to  wait 
for  it. 

This  seemed  like  hard  lines  for  Dolor  Tripp,  and  I 
suggested  that  the  three  should  wade  to  shore. 

"They  can't  do  that,"  said  Captain  Teel.  "The 
water  is  deeper  nearer  shore  than  it  is  just  here.  If 
they  go  a  dozen  yards  from  the  schooner  it  will  be 
over  their  heads.  We  Ve  made  soundin's." 

"  I  suppose,'7  said  Doris  to  the  group  in  the  water, 
"  that  you  will  have  to  wait  till  the  boat  comes  $  but 
you  ought  to  walk  about  to  keep  from  taking  cold." 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  101 

"Very  good,"  said  Lord  Crabstairs;  and  releasing 
his  hold  upon  Dolor  Tripp,  he  offered  his  arm  in  the 
usual  fashion.  The  butcher,  on  her  other  side,  did 
the  same,  and  the  three  began  their  walk  through 
the  water. 

"You  can  go  all  around  the  ship,"  said  Captain 
Teel,  "  if  you  don't  get  too  far  away  from  her,  and 
I  guess  you  '11  find  the  bottom  pretty  hard  and 
smooth." 

The  tide  was  very  low,  the  water  being  not  more 
than  waist-deep  for  the  men  and  below  the  shoulders 
of  Dolor  Tripp  5  but  it  was  quite  deep  enough  to 
make  walking  a  very  slow  performance.  But  as 
the  young  woman  put  perfect  faith  in  the  ability 
of  her  protectors,  and  as  the  two  men  were  greatly 
pleased  to  have  this  opportunity  of  aiding  and  pro 
tecting  her,  the  spirits  of  the  little  party  recovered 
their  usual  level  as  they  pushed  their  way  through 
the  water.  On  deck,  Doris  and  I,  with  Captain  Teel 
and  the  schoolmaster,  kept  pace  with  them,  the  latter 
carrying  a  plank  which  he  intended  to  hurl  to  or 
upon  Dolor  Tripp  in  case  of  danger,  such  as  a  tidal 
wave  or  an  attack  by  sharks. 

"I  like  it  ever  so  much!"  cried  Dolor  Tripp  to 
Doris.  "  It  is  a  promenade  bath.  The  water  is  warm 
and  lovely." 

Reaching  the  bow  of  the  ship,  Dolor  Tripp  looked 
up  at  the  Merry  Chanter. 

"  I  never  expected,"  she  said,  "  to  be  under  him  and 
look  at  him  from  the  sea.  I  wonder  if  I  could  climb 
up  to  him  by  this  anchor-chain  ? " 

"  Don't  try  it,  Miss,"  said  Lord  Crabstairs.  "  If  you 


102  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

ever  climb  up  to  anybody,  don't  let  it  be  to  a  wooden- 
headed  old  party  like  that." 

"When  it  comes  to  that  sort  of  thing,"  said  the 
butcher,  "  the  climbing  will  be  the  other  way." 

Perhaps  Dolor  Tripp  did  not  understand  this 
remark,  for  she  made  no  answer  to  it.  As  they 
moved  on  she  said: 

"  How  gently  these  little  waves  lap  up  against  us ! 
Do  you  gentlemen  believe  in  mind  waves  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  what  they  are,"  said  the  butcher. 

"If  you  mean  a  wavering  of  the  mind,"  answered 
Lord  Crabstairs,  "  I  have  had  it  often ;  particularly 
when  I  bought  my  last  cow.  I  wavered  between 
Alderney  and  Ayrshire  for  nearly  a  month,  and,  after 
all,  I  bought  a  Devon." 

"  Oh,  it  is  n't  anything  like  that,"  said  the  young 
woman.  "It  is  a  sort  of  understanding  between 
minds  that  are  far  away  from  each  other.  It  comes 
along  in  a  sort  of  airy  waves,  something  like  these 
ripples,  I  suppose,  and  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of 
one  friend  go  to  another  ever  so  far  off." 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  it  is ! "  cried  Lord  Crabstairs. 
"You  can  do  it  with  snails.  You  go  to  China  and 
take  a  she-snail  with  you,  and  I  stay  here  with  a  he- 
snail,  or  vice  versa.  I  can  go  to  China  with  either 
and  you  can  keep  the  other  — " 

"Do  they  have  to  be  a  married  couple,  to  begin 
with?"  interrupted  the  butcher. 

li  What !    The  people  ?  "  cried  Lord  Crabstairs. 

"  No,  the  snails,"  said  the  butcher. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  other.  "I  forgot  to  say  they 
must  be  a  pair,  so  that  there  shall  be  a  sympathy 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER.  103 

between  them."  Then,  again  addressing  the  lady, 
"  You  have  one  snail  and  I  the  other  one,  and  we  've 
got  the  whole  world  between  us.  Whichever  of  us 
wishes  to  communicate  with  the  other  takes  a  pin 
and  jabs  his  or  her  snail,  as  the  case  may  be,  and  in 
that  very  same  instant  the  other  snail  wiggles." 

"Horrible!"  cried  Dolor  Tripp.  "If  I  had  to  do 
that  I  would  never  communicate." 

"I  don't  believe  it  hurts  them,"  said  Lord  Crab- 
stairs.  "  The  least  little  bit  of  a  prick  will  do.  And 
we  could  get  up  a  jab  alphabet :  one  short  jab,  a  long 
jab,  two  short  jabs,  with  a  rest  between  them — three 
long  jabs,  a  rest  and  a  short  jab,  and  so  on." 

"  I  never  would  do  it,"  said  Dolor  Tripp,  firmly. 
"  I  would  n't  even  watch  wiggles  that  were  made  by 
pins  in  China." 

The  butcher  did  not  wish  to  be  left  out  of  this 
conversation.  "That  must  be  pretty  much  the  same 
thing,"  he  said,  "  as  is  the  case  with  the  legs  of 
frogs.  You  catch  a  dozen  frogs  and  put  their  hind 
legs  on  a  plate,  all  skinned  and  ready  to  be  cooked, 
arranged  in  a  circle  with  their  toes  pointing  out  like 
the  spokes  in  a  wheel,  and  then  you  sprinkle  some 
salt  on  them  and  every  one  of  those  legs  begins  to 
kick.  If  you  never  saw  it  before  you  '11  drop  the  plate." 

"That  is  not  like  my  snails  at  all!"  cried  Lord 
Crabstairs.  "A  person  in  China  could  n't  sprinkle 
salt  on  frog-legs  here.  If  he  were  near  enough  to 
do  that  he  might  as  well  talk.  I  don't  see  any  sense 
in  that  sort  of  thing,  even  allowing  that  your  frog- 
legs  do  kick." 

"  I  don't  see  any  sense  in  the  other  sort  of  thing," 


104  THE  MERRY    CHANTER. 

said  the  butcher,    "even  if  your  snails  do  wiggle." 

At  this  Dolor  Tripp  declared  that  her  correspond 
ence  should  always  be  either  by  letter  or  by  tele 
graph;  and  she  began  to  wonder  when  the  boat 
would  return.  We  all  strained  our  eyes  shoreward, 
but  nothing  could  be  seen  of  the  nautical  wood 
cutters,  and  the  three  in  the  water  were  obliged  to 
continue  their  stroll  around  the  vessel. 

Captain  Teel  now  made  a  joke  which  for  some 
time  had  been  resolving  itself  into  form  in  his  mind. 
"  She  calls  it  a  promenade  bath,"  he  said,  with  a  sub 
dued  giggle,  "but  to  me  it  looks  a  good  deal  more 
like  a  promenade  baptize.  That  butcher  in  his  shirt 
looks  just  like  a  minister  with  a  pair  of  uncommon 
sinners." 

I  had  noticed  that  every  time  the  party  passed 
under  the  bow  the  butcher  looked  very  attentively 
at  his  disengaged  arm,  which  hung  down  by  his  side. 
Having  caught  my  eye,  he  now  turned  back  a  little 
and  held  up  his  hand  with  his  forefinger  and  thumb 
separated  about  two  inches.  He  then  pointed  towards 
the  surface  of  the  water,  and  after  that  let  his  arm 
drop  again. 

The  meaning  of  this  pantomime  was  very  plain  to 
me.  He  had  been  measuring  the  depth  of  the  water 
by  some  mark  on  his  sleeve,  and  the  tide  had  risen 
two  inches.  He  wanted  me  to  know  that  he  was 
getting  uneasy.  I  began  to  grow  uneasy  also.  I 
would  have  been  better  pleased  had  not  the  butcher 
always  chosen  me  as  the  recipient  of  his  forebod 
ings. 

But  there  was  no  reason  for  anxiety,  for,  as  the 


THE    MEERT    CHANTER.  105 

hour  for  dinner  drew  nigh,  the  three  captains 
emerged  from  the  woods,  two  of  them  carrying 
the  ladder  and  the  other  a  bundle  of  sticks.  Dolor 
Tripp  and  her  companions  were  then  near  the  bow 
of  the  vessel,  and  concealed  from  view  of  persons 
on  shore.  By  the  time  the  boat  had  nearly  reached 
the  schooner  the  three  water-walkers  came  around 
the  bow,  and  there  never  were  more  astonished 
mariners  than  our  captains  when  they  beheld  the 
three  heads  and  shoulders  which  apparently  floated 
towards  them.  Captain  Cyrus,  who  held  the  tiller, 
was  so  startled  that  he  nearly  fell  overboard,  and  in 
their  sudden  consternation  the  two  others  allowed 
a  few  words  of  the  swearing  variety  to  escape  from 
their  lips  —  the  first  we  had  heard  from  them  since 
they  had  entered  our  service. 

"Now  you  see,"  said  Lord  Crabstairs  to  Dolor 
Tripp,  "  if  those  sailors  had  taken  a  snail  with  them 
and  we  had  had  a  snail,  we  could  have  let  them  know 
what  was  the  matter,  and  they  would  have  turned 
back  immediately  and  taken  us  out  of  the  water. 
Every  ship  should  carry  a  lot  of  snails  in  case  the 
people  on  board  get  separated." 

The  butcher  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  evidently 
saw  no  way  of  bringing  his  frogs'  legs  to  the  fore. 

Our  friends  were  soon  on  board  and  in  dry  clothes  j 
and  when  the  butcher  appeared  on  deck  he  took  me 
to  one  side  and  remarked :  "  As  I  was  walking  round 
this  ship  I  made  up  my  mind  it  would  n't  be  long 
before  her  barnacles  grew  down  into  the  sand 
bank  —  that  is,  if  they  grow  that  way;  and  when 
that  happens,  and  taking  into  consideration  the 


106  THE    MERRY   CHANTER. 

seventy  cart-loads  of  paving  stones  in  her  hold, 
she  '11  have  a  pretty  strong  foundation.  But,  of 
course,  there  ?s  no  use  saying  anything  of  that  kind 
to  the  ladies,  especially  if  they  ?re  beginning  to  feel 
as  if  they  ?d  like  to  be  getting  on  to  Boston." 


XII 


DOLOR  TRIPP  TAKES  US  UNDER  HER  WING 


HE  gloomy  remarks  of  the  butcher 
in  regard  to  the  permanency  of  the 
Merry  Chanter's  position  had  a  cer 
tain  effect  upon  me.  I  did  not 
agree  with  him,  for  I  had  full  faith 
in  the  knowledge  and  experience  of 
our  skipper,  and  believed  that  when  the  exceptional 
gale  and  the  exceptional  tide  came  along  together 
our  ship  would  float  off  the  sand  bank  and  sail  out 
of  Shankashank  Bay.  But  the  continual  allusions  of 
the  butcher  to  our  barnacles  and  our  seventy  cart 
loads  of  paving  stones  could  but  depress  me.  It 
would  require  such  a  very  high  tide  and  such  a  very 
strong  gale  to  move  us.  As  we  had  started  for 
Boston,  I  wanted  to  go  there. 

Doris,  to  my  surprise,  appeared  to  have  become 
reconciled  to  the  delay.  Of  course,  as  she  had  started 
for  Boston,  she  wanted  to  go  there ;  but,  as  she 
several  times  remarked,  she  did  not  wish  to  be 
unreasonable.  She  knew  there  were  many  delays 
connected  with  voyages  on  sailing  vessels,  such  as 
calms,  head  winds,  and  the  like,  and  she  supposed 
the  cause  of  our  present  detention  was  equivalent  to 
a  calm.  With  this  view  Captain  Tim  on  coincided. 

107 


108  THE    MEEEY   GRANTEE. 

She  had  begun  to  feel  at  home  in  Shankashank 
Bay,  and  so  long  as  she  had  to  stay  she  determined 
to  make  the  best  of  it.  And  in  this  resolve  she  was 
joined  by  the  rest  of  the  ship's  company. 

Lord  Crabstairs  could  sing  a  good  song,  and  he 
sang  a  great  many.  The  butcher  had  a  deep  and 
earnest  voice,  and  with  this  he  joined  in  choruses. 
The  rest  of  us  also  did  our  duty  in  this  line  accord 
ing  to  our  abilities.  The  schoolmaster  conducted 
spelling-bees ;  Doris  told  stories,  which  she  did 
excellently  well  5  and  I  delivered  one  lecture  on 
"  The  Analysis  of  Lava."  The  only  person,  how 
ever,  who  appeared  to  be  much  interested  in  the  sub 
ject  was  Lord  Crabstairs,  who  inquired  if  there  were 
any  volcanoes  near  Boston.  I  think  this  question 
was  inspired  by  a  glimmer  of  hope  in  regard  to  the 
lifting  of  the  hereditary  debts  of  his  family;  for 
when  I  told  him  that  there  were  no  volcanoes 
near  the  port  to  which  we  were  bound,  he  fixed  his 
eyes  upon  the  back  of  Dolor  Tripp,  and  I  am  sure 
gave  no  further  thought  to  lava. 

On  the  second  day  after  the  water  promenade  a 
picnic  on  shore  was  proposed  ;  and  immediately  after 
dinner  the  two  ladies,  with  myself,  the  butcher,  Lord 
Crabstairs,  and  the  schoolmaster,  went  on  shore. 
The  latter  declined  at  first  to  be  of  our  party,  for 
fear  that  Mrs.  Bodship  might  catch  sight  of  him; 
but  as  the  butcher  lent  him  a  gown  and  a  high  silk 
hat,  he  was  convinced  that  he  might  go  with  us 
without  danger  of  being  recognized  —  at  least  at  a 
distance.  He  took  with  him  the  sandpiper  in  its 
cage ;  for,  although  the  bird  was  well  on  its  way  to 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER.  109 

recovery,  he  considered  it  not  yet  able  to  take  care 
of  itself. 

Our  plan  was  to  go  some  distance  inland,  eat  our 
supper  at  an  appropriate  rural  spot,  and,  returning 
to  the  shore  at  the  close  of  the  day,  take  a  moonlight 
row  on  Shankashank  Bay.  This  was  to  be  long  or 
short  according  to  our  pleasure,  and  when  it  was 
over  we  would  return  to  the  Merry  Chanter.  We 
invited  any  of  the  captains  who  chose  to  accompany 
us,  but  they  all  declined.  The  exceptional  gale 
might  come  in  with  the  tide,  and  in  that  case  they 
should  all  be  on  board  to  take  the  schooner  out  into 
deeper  water. 

We  rambled  about  two  miles  inland,  and  our  little 
excursion  was  enjoyed  by  all  of  us  until  we  were 
preparing  to  return  to  the  shore  after  having  eaten 
our  supper.  Then  a  sudden  rain-storm  burst  upon 
us,  and  we  ceased  to  enjoy  the  excursion.  Hastily 
gathering  up  our  baskets  and  wraps,  we  ran  for  the 
nearest  house  j  but  as  this  was  about  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  away,  we  were  well  wet  before  we  got 
there. 

Even  when  we  reached  it  we  found  it  a  poor  place 
of  refuge.  It  was  a  very  small  house,  and  there  was 
nobody  at  home  but  a  boy  and  girl,  who,  I  am  sure, 
would  not  have  admitted  us  if  we  had  knocked  at 
the  main  door.  But  as  we  rushed  pell-mell  into  the 
kitchen  from  the  back  of  the  house,  they  had  no 
option  in  regard  to  our  entrance.  The  girl,  how 
ever,  locked  the  door  of  the  front  or  best  room,  so 
that  we  should  not  go  in  there  with  our  wet  feet  and 
clothes,  and  we  were  obliged  to  bestow  ourselves  as 
10 


110  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

well  as  we  could  in  the  little  kitchen,  in  which  there 
was  one  chair.  There  was  no  fire,  and  the  girl 
declared  there  was  no  need  of  making  one  until  her 
mother  came  with  the  supper,  and  that  she  would 
not  come  until  the  rain  was  over.  Had  we  been 
able  to  discover  any  fuel  we  would  have  made 
the  fire  ourselves;  but  as  we  saw  none,  we  merely 
stood  about  and  grumbled. 

The  heavy  clouds,  which  had  come  up  so  fast  from 
behind  the  woods  in  which  we  had  supped,  brought 
darkness  upon  us  at  least  an  hour  before  we  expected 
it,  and  the  rain  continued  to  fall  steadily.  When  we 
had  spent  half  an  hour  or  more  in  the  dismal  little 
kitchen  Dolor  Tripp  spoke  up. 

"It  will  never  do  to  stay  here,"  she  said.  "We 
shall  take  our  deaths  of  cold.  Our  house  is  not  a 
mile  away,  and  the  best  thing  we  can  do  is  to  go 
there.  We  are  so  wet  now  that  we  might  as  well  be 
wetter,  and  when  we  get  to  the  house  we  can  warm 
and  dry  ourselves  and  stay  until  the  rain  is  over." 

The  suggestion  was  accepted  instantly,  and  heap 
ing  coals  of  fire  upon  the  heads  of  the  youngsters  by 
giving  them  some  small  change,  we  tramped  out  into 
the  storm.  Dolor  Tripp  declared  that  dark  as  it  was 
she  knew  she  could  find  the  way,  for  the  road  to  her 
home  was  a  moderately  direct  one,  having  but  few 
turns;  and,  supported  by  Lord  Crabstairs  and  the 
butcher,  she  led  the  way. 

The  road  might  have  been  direct  enough  and 
smooth  enough  if  we  could  have  kept  in  the  middle 
of  it ;  but  the  sides  on  which,  without  intending  it, 
we  did  most  of  our  walking  were  very  rough,  and  as 


THE    ME  RET   CHANTER.  Ill 

we  frequently  ran  against  the  fences  on  either  side, 
Dolor  Tripp  declared  that  she  believed  that  the  roads 
were  a  good  deal  narrower  by  night  than  by  day. 
But  during  our*  slow  and  stumbling  progress  we 
cheered  ourselves  with  two  reflections  —  we  were 
getting  nearer  and  nearer  to  a  sheltering  roof,  and 
the  exercise  was  keeping  us  from  taking  cold. 

After  walking  for  what  seemed  to  me  a  very  long 
time,  Dolor  Tripp  remarked  that  she  believed  that 
she  had  passed  a  fork  in  the  road  where  we  should 
have  turned  to  the  right,  and  that  we  must  go  back 
a  little.  "We  went  back;  but  after  stumbling  and 
splashing  and  peering  about  for  nearly  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,  our  guide  said  that  she  now  believed  we 
had  not  passed  the  fork,  and  we  might  as  well 
keep  on. 

We  kept  on  and  on  and  on,  and  at  last  we  came  to 
a  fork, —  which  the  butcher  discovered, — and  then  we 
turned  to  the  right.  The  rain  now  began  to  slacken, 
the  clouds  grew  a  little  thinner,  and  a  diluted  and 
shadowed  moonlight  enabled  us  better  to  find  our 
way.  I  asserted  that  I  believed  it  would  be  well  to 
change  our  course,  and,  instead  of  going  to  the  Tripp 
house,  turn  shoreward  and  get  back  to  the  schooner 
as  soon  as  possible. 

This  proposition,  however,  met  with  no  favor.  The 
others  declared  that  as  the  road  to  the  shore  would 
from  this  point  lead  us  over  fields  and  sand  hills  we 
should  be  lost,  and  should  miserably  perish ;  whereas, 
from  the  Tripp  house  to  the  boat-landing  we  all  knew 
the  way,  which,  moreover,  we  need  not  take  until  we 
had  dried  ourselves  and  rested. 


112  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

We  therefore  pressed  on ;  and  as  we  could  now  see 
the  roadway,  which,  although  sloppy,  was  compara 
tively  smooth,  we  made  fair  progress,  and  after  a  time 
the  house  of  our  destination  loomed  up  dark  before 
us.  As  we  made  our  way  to  the  front  gate  Dolor 
Tripp  remarked:  "Of  course  they  are  abed  and  asleep, 
for  they  always  go  to  bed  early,  and  the  gate  must  be 
locked." 

"  But  I  hope  they  will  get  up  and  open  it,"  said  I. 

"Not  Alwilda  and  Lizeth,"  she  said.  "You  would  n't 
think  that  if  you  knew  them.  They  would  n't  unlock 
the  gate  after  dark,  even  if  they  were  up ;  and  as  to 
getting  out  of  bed  to  do  it,  they  'd  let  Queen  Victoria 
stand  here  and  wait  till  morning." 

For  some  time  I  had  been  in  a  bad  humor,  and  I 
now  felt  very  much  provoked.  "  It  might  have  been 
well,"  I  said,  "  if  you  had  thought  of  all  this  before 
you  brought  us  here." 

"I  did,  partly,"  said  Dolor  Tripp.  "That  is,  I 
thought  it  would  be  just  as  well  that  they  should  be  in 
bed  and  asleep  when  we  got  here,  for  I  know  Alwilda 
will  talk  dreadfully  to  me  about  going  to  Boston,  and 
perhaps  talk  me  out  of  it ;  but  I  did  n't  happen  to 
think  that  if  they  were  not  up  we  might  not  get  in." 

"  There  is  no  need  bothering  about  the  gate,"  quick 
ly  spoke  up  the  butcher.  "  I  can  make  an  opening  in 
this  fence  and  not  hurt  it,  either.  And  when  we  get 
inside  the  yard  I  expect  we  can  find  some  window  or 
door  unfastened.  There  always  is  in  country  houses." 

Dolor  Tripp  replied  that  if  he  did  not  hurt  the  fence 
she  thought  that  would  be  a  good  plan,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  the  butcher  had  felt  along  the  fence  and 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  113 

found  a  place  where  the  pales  were  somewhat  loose, 
by  reason  of  age.  He  and  Lord  Crabstairs  then  pulled 
five  or  six  of  them  from  their  bottom  fastenings  and 
pushed  them  to  one  side,  so  that  the  party  easily 
entered. 

The  butcher  enjoined  us  to  make  as  little  noise  as 
possible.  It  was  natural  that  he  should  not  wish  to 
wake  up  a  woman  who  might  talk  Dolor  Tripp  into 
not  going  to  Boston.  Then  he  said  he  would  go  by 
himself  round  the  house  and  try  the  shutters  and 
doors. 

"  You  need  n't  do  that,"  said  Dolor  Tripp.  "  There 
is  n't  a  door  or  a  window  on  the  lower  floor  that  is  n't 
bolted,  or  locked,  or  barred,  or  screwed  up." 

There  was  a  little  murmur  among  us.  The  rain  had 
almost  ceased,  but  we  were  tired,  wet,  and  miserable, 
and  what  we  wanted  above  all  things  was  to  rest  our 
selves  before  a  fire.  The  situation  was  disheartening, 
and  as  for  Doris  and  me,  we  did  not  care  whether  the 
sisters  were  wakened  or  not  so  that  we  got  in  and  were 
warmed. 

"  I  '11  knock  at  the  door,"  said  I,  "  and  make  some 
one  come  down  and  open  it." 

Dolor  Tripp  held  up  a  warning  hand.  "  Don't  do 
that,"  she  said.  "  Alwilda  has  a  gun.  I  've  thought 
of  a  way  to  get  in.  Do  you  see  that  pine  tree  at  the 
corner  of  the  house  ?  That  is  the  tree  that  I  expected 
the  burglars  to  climb  up  when  I  used  to  sit  and 
watch  for  them.  And  if  a  burglar  could  do  it,  I  should 
think  some  one  else  could ;  and  then  he  could  easily 
push  up  the  sash  of  that  window  and  get  in,  and  go 
through  the  room  into  the  hall  and  down  the  stairs, 


114  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

and  take  down  the  bar  from  this  door  and  unlock  it, 
and  let  us  in." 

"  I  '11  do  it !  "  said  the  butcher  the  moment  she  had 
finished  speaking;  and  without  delay,  he  advanced 
towards  the  tree. 

"  I  would  climb  up  and  go  in  myself,"  said  Lord 
Crabstairs,  "but  I  am  not  sure  that  I  understand 
these  American  houses." 

The  butcher  took  off  his  gown,  which  clung  to  him 
like  a  wet  shroud,  and  casting  it  upon  the  grass  he 
began  to  ascend  the  tree.  This  he  did  easily  and 
rapidly,  the  horizontal  branches  affording  him  con 
venient  hold  for  foot  and  hand.  Very  soon  he  was 
inside  the  house,  and  we  listened  anxiously,  fearing 
that  we  might  hear  a  noisy  stumbling  and  the  report 
of  Alwilda's  gun.  But  we  heard  no  noise  at  all ;  and 
after  what  seemed  an  unnecessarily  protracted  period 
of  waiting,  the  front  door  quietly  opened. 

"  I  did  n't  strike  the  stairs  at  first,"  whispered  the 
butcher,  "  and  I  went  too  far  along  that  upper  hall ; 
but  when  I  came  against  a  door  that  was  partly  open 
I  knew  I  was  wrong,  and  turned  back." 

tl  Mercy  ! "  gasped  Dolor  Tripp.  "  That  was  their 
room  ! " 

We  all  now  entered,  and  the  butcher  gently  closed 
the  door  behind  us.  There  was  an  unshuttered  win 
dow  at  the  other  end  of  the  hall  through  which  came 
enough  dim  light  to  enable  us  faintly  to  discern  one 
another  and  surrounding  objects. 

"  I  ?11  go  first,"  whispered  Dolor  Tripp,  "  and  take 
you  to  the  old  part  of  the  house." 

So  saying  she  led  us,  all  stepping  as  softly  as  we 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER.  115 

could,  to  a  transverse  hall,  and  along  this  to  a  large 
open  door,  through  which  we  passed  and  went  down 
three  steps  into  another  hall.  This  was  very  short ; 
and  opening  a  door  at  the  end  of  it  Dolor  Tripp  ush 
ered  us  into  a  large  room,  into  which  the  moonbeams, 
now  grown  brighter,  came  through  a  small  unshut 
tered  window  high  up  in  the  wall. 

Dolor  Tripp,  who  seemed  to  be  used  to  doing  things 
in  semi-darkness,  took  down  an  iron  candlestick  from 
the  mantelpiece,  and  asked  if  anybody  had  a  match. 
One  was  immediately  produced  by  Lord  Crabstairs 
and  the  candle  was  lighted. 

"Now,"  said  she,  holding  the  light  above  her  head, 
"  this  is  the  kitchen  of  the  old  house.  Part  of  the  old 
house  was  torn  down  to  make  room  for  the  new  one, 
which  is  pretty  old  itself,  but  this  kitchen  was  left. 
If  some  one  will  close  that  door  we  shall  be  entirely 
shut  off  from  the  rest  of  the  house,  and  then  we  need 
not  be  so  particular  about  keeping  quiet. n 

I  did  not  care  a  snap  whether  this  part  of  the  house 
was  old  or  new,  but  I  saw  before  me  a  great  old-fash 
ioned  fireplace  with  some  charred  logs  lying  upon  the 
iron  andirons,  and  at  one  end  of  the  hearth  a  pile  of 
firewood.  This  was  what  we  had  come  for.  We  fell 
to  work,  and  in  ten  minutes  a  great  fire  was  blazing 
and  crackling,  the  wet  wraps  of  the  ladies  were 
removed,  and  we  all  gathered  around  the  hearth, 
which  fortunately  was  large  enough  to  accommodate 
the  six  of  us.  It  is  astonishing  how  the  genial  heat 
dried  our  shoes  and  clothes  and  raised  our  spirits. 

The  schoolmaster  and  the  butcher  sat  at  the  cor 
ners  of  the  fireplace,  and  they  were  very  well  placed 


116  THE    MERRY   CHANTER. 

indeed.  The  former  took  off  his  gown  and  hung  it 
on  a  crane  that  extended  from  one  side  of  the  great 
fireplace.  He  wished  to  have  it  dry  enough  to  put  on 
when  he  went  out  It  was  not  probable  that  Mrs. 
Bodship  would  be  rambling  about  the  country  at 
night,  but  he  wanted  to  feel  quite  safe. 

"Now,  then/'  said  Doris,  "if  we  only  had  some 
good  hot  tea  we  ought  to  be  perfectly  happy." 

"And  something  to  eat,"  added  Lord  Crabstairs. 
"  I,  for  one,  am  half  famished." 

"You  can  have  both  tea  and  something  to  eat," 
said  Dolor  Tripp.  aWe  have  used  this  kitchen  as 
a  storeroom  for  the  things  we  buy  in  quantities.  In 
that  cupboard  is  a  box  of  tea,  and  there  is  sugar  and 
salt  and  spices,  and  a  barrel  of  flour." 

"  We  can't  do  anything  with  flour  and  salt  without 
waiting  ever  so  long,"  said  Doris. 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  could  eat  them  without  baking,"  said 
Lord  Crabstairs. 

"  You  need  n't  do  that,"  said  Dolor  Tripp.  "  I  can 
go  quietly  to  the  other  end  of  the  house,  where  the 
pantry  is.  There  is  always  something  to  eat  there. 
But  first  let  us  boil  the  kettle.  If  you,  sir,  will  move 
your  gown  a  little  farther  to  the  back  of  the  crane 
there  is  a  kettle  here  which  we  can  hang  over  the 
fire." 

Under  her  direction  the  butcher,  with  as  little 
noise  as  possible,  pumped  some  water  from  a  cistern 
under  the  kitchen,  and  when  the  kettle  was  filled  and 
over  the  fire  the  two  ladies  got  down  some  cups, 
saucers,  and  a  tea-pot  from  the  shelves  of  a  dresser 
which  seemed  to  be  filled  with  old-time  pottery. 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER.  117 

Then  Dolor  Tripp  started  to  go  to  the  pantry.  "  I 
will  blow  out  the  candle,"  she  said,  "  and  take  it  with 
me.  Then  I  will  light  it  when  I  get  there.  They  are 
very  hard  to  wake,  but  a  light  passing  through  the 
house  might  do  it.  You  folks  won't  mind  sitting  here 
in  the  firelight  ?" 

Of  course  we  did  not  mind,  and  Doris  offered  to  go 
with  her.  The  two  opened  the  kitchen  door  and 
went  out  into  the  little  hall.  In  a  moment  they 
returned. 

"What  do  you  think,"  said  Doris,  in  an  excited 
undertone;  "the  door  at  the  top  of  the  steps  that 
leads  into  the  main  building  is  fastened,  and  we 
cannot  open  it!" 

In  great  surprise  we  all  rose  to  our  feet  and  looked 
towards  Dolor  Tripp  that  she  might  tell  us  what  to 
think.  "  Is  there  a  spring-lock  on  the  door  1 "  I  asked. 

"  No,"  said  she,  "  there  is  no  spring-lock,  and  we  did 
not  close  the  door  after  us.  "We  shut  only  this  kitchen 
door.  But  I  know  who  did  it,"  she  added,  quietly.  "  It 
was  the  ghost.  It  is  one  of  its  ways  to  lock  and  bolt 
doors/7 


XIII 


THE   PIE   GHOST 


HE  ghost ! "  exclaimed  Doris,  with  a 
quick  grasp  upon  the  arm  of  Dolor 
Tripp. 

"  I  was  sure  of  it ! "  said  the 
butcher,  looking  straight  in  front 
of  him  and  speaking  very  decidedly. 
"  I  saw  something  white  moving  in  the  front  hall  as 
I  came  down  the  stairs.  I  knew  it  for  a  ghost,  but  I 
did  n't  say  anything,  for  I  did  n't  suppose  it  would 
meddle  with  six  people." 

"  Fiddle-faddle ! "  said  Lord  Crabstairs.  "  There  are 
no  such  things  as  ghosts."  And  with  this  opinion  I 
coincided.  The  schoolmaster  said  nothing.  He  re 
sumed  his  seat  at  the  side  of  the  fireplace  and 
rearranged  his  gown  upon  the  crane,  so  as  to  expose 
all  parts  of  it  to  the  heat.  It  might  be  necessary  to 
put  it  on  suddenly. 

"  There  is  no  mistake  about  this  ghost,"  said  Dolor 
Tripp.  "  If  you  will  all  sit  down  till  the  kettle  boils 
I  will  tell  you  about  it." 

We  resumed  our  seats  in  front  of  the  fire,  and  the 
butcher  put  on  some  fresh  sticks. 

"  It  has  been  in  this  house,"  said  Dolor,  still  hold- 

118 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER.  119 

ing  j;he  unlighted  candle,  "  ever  since  I  first  came 
here,  a  little  girl  only  ten  years  old.  I  soon  began  to 
see  it,  though  I  don't  believe  it  often  saw  me." 

"Did  n't  it  frighten  you  nearly  to  death?"  asked 
Doris. 

"No,"  replied  the  other.  "At  first  I  thought  it 
belonged  to  the  house  just  as  much  as  any  of  the 
other  queer  things  which  I  found  here,  and  there 
seemed  to  be  no  reason  why  I  should  be  frightened 
at  one  thing  more  than  at  another." 

"  What  did  your  sisters  say  about  it  ?  "  asked  Doris. 

"  They  did  n't  say  anything,"  replied  the  other. 
"  I  soon  began  to  believe  that  they  did  n't  know 
anything  about  it,  and  I  was  afraid  that  if  I  told 
them  they  would  have  something  done  to  drive  it 
out  of  the  house." 

We  all  looked  at  her  in  amazement.  "  And  you  did 
not  want  that  ?  "  asked  Lord  Crabstairs. 

"  No,  indeed,"  replied  Dolor  Tripp.  "  I  used  to  try 
to  watch  for  it.  I  would  go  into  different  parts  of  the 
house  at  night  and  watch  for  it,  hoping  it  would  come 
by.  Sometimes  weeks  and  weeks  would  pass  without 
my  seeing  it,  and  then  I  would  get  a  glimpse  of  it  on 
two  or  three  nights  in  succession." 

"  What  did  it  look  like  ?"  asked  Doris. 

"  Its  head  was  light  or  whitish,  and  below  it  gradu 
ally  melted  down  into  darkness." 

"  That  was  it,"  said  the  butcher.  "  That  is  exactly 
like  the  thing  I  saw." 

"And  you  never,  never  told  your  sisters,"  said 
Doris,  "  that  they  were  living  in  the  house  with  a 
ghost  ?  " 


120  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

"  No,  indeed ! "  replied  Dolor  Tripp.  "  You  see,  be 
fore  we  came  here  we  lived  in  a  horrid  little  house  in 
the  town,  and  when  it  was  decided  by  the  court  that 
this  place  belonged  to  us  nobody  was  so  glad  as  I  was. 
So,  as  I  told  you,  I  did  not  want  Alwilda  and  Lizeth 
to  do  anything  to  drive  the  ghost  away  5  but  what  I 
was  most  afraid  of  was  that  they  might  find  that  they 
could  n't  get  rid  of  it,  and  would  go  away  themselves. 
I  wouldn't  have  had  that  happen  for  anything  in 
the  world." 

"  And  so,"  said  Doris,  "  as  the  burglars  would  not 
come  you  did  n't  want  to  lose  the  visits  of  a  ghost," 

"  Perhaps  so,"  replied  Dolor  Tripp.  "  And  now  the 
kettle  is  boiling,  and  we  can  have  some  tea,  if  we 
can't  get  anything  else." 

"As  for  ghosts,"  interjected  Lord  Crabstairs,  "  I 
never  have  believed  in  them,  and  never  shall.  But  I 
do  know  that  I  am  as  hungry  as  a  wolf;  and  if  you'll 
allow  me,  Miss,  I  '11  push  open  that  door,  no  matter 
who  fastened  it  on  the  other  side,  and  I'll  go  with 
you  to  the  pantry,  or  anywhere  else  where  there  >s 
bread  and  meat,  and  defend  you  against  all  comers, 
ghosts  or  otherwise." 

"Oh,  you  must  not  do  that!"  exclaimed  Dolor 
Tripp.  "  The  door  would  be  broken,  and  Alwilda  and 
Lizeth  would  surely  wake  up." 

"  As  for  believing  in  ghosts,"  said  the  butcher,  "  a 
good  deal  depends  upon  who  does  the  believing.  If 
you  7ve  never  had  a  chance  of  seeing  ghosts,  sir,  you 
are  out  of  the  race." 

The  candle  was  now  lighted,  and  cups  of  hot  tea  were 
served  by  the  ladies.  I  hurriedly  drank  a  cup  and 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  121 

then  began  to  consider  the  situation.  I  went  to  the 
door  at  the  top  of  the  steps  and  tried  it,  thinking  per 
haps  there  might  be  a  mistake  in  regard  to  its  being 
fastened.  But  there  had  been  no  mistake.  It  was 
locked,  and  the  key  was  on  the  other  side.  I  did  not 
like  to  be  fastened  up  against  my  will  in  any  place  or 
by  any  agency. 

I  now  insisted  that  we  should  leave  this  place  with 
out  delay,  by  a  window  if  there  was  no  other  outlet, 
and  make  our  way  to  our  boat. 

"  Oh,  you  can't  get  out/'  said  Dolor  Tripp,  "  until 
he  unfastens  the  door.  The  window  sashes  are  all 
nailed  and  screwed  fast,  and  the  outside  shutters  and 
that  back  door  are  padlocked.  Alwilda  and  Lizeth  are 
very  particular  about  having  this  kitchen  secure  from 
burglars.  But  you  need  n't  worry.  That  door  will  be 
opened  before  long.  The  ghost  always  does  that  after 
making  you  wait  a  little  while." 

"  I  think  it  is  rather  jolly,"  said  Doris,  "  to  have  a 
ghost  for  a  jailer,  though  I  can't  really  say  I  should 
like  to  have  him  come  in  and  bring  us  a  jug  of  water 
and  a  loaf  of  bread.'7 

"  If  he  will  do  that,"  said  Lord  Crabstairs,  "  I  '11 
believe  in  him ;  although  I  don't  care  for  the  water, 
and  should  like  him  to  fetch  some  meat  or  cheese  with 
the  bread." 

Doris  suddenly  turned  towards  the  schoolmaster. 
"  What  have  you  done  with  the  sandpiper  ? "  she 
said. 

The  butcher  started.  "  You  are  not  thinking  of 
eating  him  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Doris,  with  a  laugh.     "  We  have  not 


122  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

got  so  low  as  that  yet,  although  I  must  admit  that  I 
also  am  awfully  hungry.  But  talking  of  things  to  eat 
made  me  think  of  the  bird,  and  I  wondered  what  had 
become  of  it." 

"I  left  the  cage/7  said  the  schoolmaster,  "  just  out 
side  by  the  front  door.  I  put  my  hat  over  it  to  keep 
the  rain  off  the  sandpiper." 

Lord  Crabstairs  smote  his  knees  with  his  hands  and 
laughed.  "  Why,  man,"  he  cried,  "  that  tall  silk  hat 
has  blown  forty  miles  across  country  by  this  time  !  " 

The  butcher  looked  at  him  severely.  "That's  all 
right !  "  he  said.  "  I  should  like  to  know  how  it  could 
get  out  of  this  yard  with  such  a  high  fence  and  no  gate 
open.  I  don't  believe  it  ?s  raining,  anyway  j  so  you  may 
feel  sure,  ma'am,  that  the  sandpiper  is  comfortable." 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  little  noise  at  one  of  the 
windows,  and,  turning  my  eyes  in  that  direction,  I 
saw  the  lower  sash  raised  a  couple  of  inches.  I  was 
about  to  spring  towards  the  window  when  Doris,  who 
had  followed  my  glance,  caught  me  by  the  coat. 

Instantly  we  all  rose  to  our  feet,  and  as  we  looked 
at  the  window,  beyond  which  we  could  see  nothing, 
something  like  a  young  moon  began  to  protrude  itself 
through  the  opening  under  the  sash.  In  a  moment 
the  lunar  apparition  had  greatly  increased  in  size  and 
was  a  half  moon. 

Dolor  Tripp  now  made  a  quick  step  forward. 

"Keep  back,  all  of  you,"  she  said.  "I  know  what 
it  is."  And  going  to  the  window  she  took  hold  of  the 
moon,  and,  drawing  it  into  the  room,  she  held  it  up  to 
us  in  all  the  glory  of  its  fullness. 

"  A- pumpkin  pie  ! "  exclaimed  Doris. 


123 


124  THE    MERRY   CHANTER. 

We  gathered  about  it.  It  was  of  the  largest  size 
and  as  yellow  as  gold.  "  Oh,  delicious ! "  cried  Doris. 
"  Somebody  get  a  knife." 

"  But  where  did  it  come  from  ? "  I  asked. 

"  From  the  ghost,  of  course,'7  replied  Dolor  Tripp. 
"  That  is  one  of  its  ways.  It  leaves  pies  about.  Several 
times  when  it  has  locked  me  into  a  room  I  've  just 
waited  quietly  until  I  found  the  door  unfastened,  and 
there  outside,  just  where  I  would  n't  step  into  it,  there 
would  be  a  little  pie." 

"  A  lovely  ghost !  "  cried  Lord  Crabstairs.  "  I  am 
converted.  I  believe  in  him.  But  this  is  n't  a  pie  ;  it 's 
a  tart.  Pies  are  made  of  meat." 

"  No,  they  are  not,"  said  the  butcher ;  "  at  least,  not 
punkin  pies.  I  should  think  I  ought  to  know  what 
things  are  made  of  meat." 

"  And  I  ought  to  know  what  things  are  made  of 
fruits  and  vegetables,"  retorted  Lord  Crabstairs. 
"  That  is  a  tart ! " 

"  I  '11  toss  up  to  see  who  is  right,"  said  the  butcher. 

"  Done ! "  said  Lord  Crabstairs,  producing  a  penny. 

"  Heads  !  "  cried  the  butcher. 

It  was  tails. 

" All  right,"  said  the  butcher.  "I  '11  take  some  of 
it,  but  all  the  same  I  never  imagined  that  I  should 
live  long  enough  to  eat  punkin  tart!" 

Dolor  Tripp  quickly  cut  the  pie  into  six  parts,  but 
I  would  have  none  of  it.  I  do  not  believe  in  ghosts, 
and  will  not  eat  food  brought  by  them.  I  went  to 
the  window  and  endeavored  to  raise  the  sash  higher, 
but  could  not  do  so.  With  all  my  strength  I  could 
not  increase  the  width  of  the  narrow  aperture.  One 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER.  125 

of  .the  shutters  was  open,  but  the  shadow  of  the 
main  building  and  a  growth  of  evergreen  bushes 
made  everything  dark  immediately  outside. 

I  left  the  window,  and  walking  quietly  out  of  the 
kitchen  into  the  little  hall,  I  again  tried  the  door  at 
the  top  of  the  steps.  To  my  delight  it  was  unfas 
tened.  I  stepped  gently  back,  and  looking  in  at  the 
kitchen  door  I  caught  the  eye  of  the  butcher,  who 
was  finishing  his  piece  of  pie.  Without  attracting 
the  attention  of  the  others,  who  were  making  some 
fresh  tea,  he  came  to  me. 

I  whispered  to  him  to  follow.  We  went  up  the 
steps,  and  through  the  door.  We  groped  our  way 
along  the  passage,  turned  into  the  main  hall,  opened 
the  front  door,  and  went  out. 

"  It  is  no  ghost,"  I  said.  "  Let  us  go  around  the 
house  and  catch  him  ! n 

tl  I  began  to  have  my  doubts,"  said  the  butcher. 
"  The  pie  was  too  real." 

As  quietly  as  possible  we  walked  along  the  front  of 
the  house  and  around  the  end  of  it,  returning  by  the 
back  towards  the  old  kitchen.  The  moon  gave  us 
light  enough  to  see  our  way  until  we  reached  the 
shaded  corner  by  the  window;  but  when  we  had 
slowly  and  gently  pushed  through  the  evergreens 
we  found  ourselves  in  almost  total  darkness,  the 
little  light  that  came  from  the  candle  within  amount 
ing  to  almost  nothing.  But  although  we  could  not 
expect  to  see  an  approaching  figure,  we  might  hear 
one,  and  we  stood  silently  and  waited. 

But  we  did  not  wait  long.  Down  from  some  re 
gion  above  came  a  light,  misty  spot  like  a  will-o'-the- 


126  THE    MERRY   CHANTER. 

wisp.  When  it  was  about  five  feet  from  the  ground 
it  moved  towards  the  kitchen  window.  I  do  not 
know  what  the  butcher  thought,  but  at  this  moment 
it  occurred  to  me  that  perhaps  after  all  it  might  be 
well  not  to  interfere  with  this  apparition.  We  really 
had  no  right  to  interfere  and  we  were  ourselves  in 
truders  upon  the  premises.  And  whether  it  were  a 
ghost,  or  a  man,  or  a  woman,  there  was  something 
in  my  nature,  naturally  sensitive,  which  prompted 
hesitation  before  actively  interfering  with  the  pur 
suits  of  another. 

But  I  had  no  time  properly  to  revolve  this  subject 
in  my  mind.  The  butcher  reached  out  one  hand  and 
took  me  by  the  coat-sleeve.  Following  the  impulse 
thus  given  I  moved  with  him  towards  the  window, 
our  feet  making  no  noise  upon  the  soft  grass. 

Against  the  faint  light  in  the  room,  on  the  side  of 
the  window  where  the  shutter  was  opened,  we  could 
see  the  top  of  a  strangely  formed  head  raised  just 
high  enough  above  the  window-sill  to  enable  its 
owner  to  look  inside.  The  ghost  was  watching  our 
friends ! 

There  was  a  quick  movement  of  the  apparition ; 
the  butcher  had  seized  it.  In  the  next  instant  I  also 
laid  hold  of  it.  Within  my  grasp  I  felt  an  arm,  a 
human  arm  quite  firm  and  solid.  Not  a  word  was 
spoken  j  there  was  no  struggle,  no  noise.  Silently 
the  butcher  and  I  pulled  our  captive  away  from  the 
window,  through  the  overhanging  evergreen  boughs, 
and  out  into  the  moonlight. 

There  we  discovered  that  we  held  a  man,  quite  a 
small  man,  with  a  white  cap  on  his  head. 


THE    ME  BEY    CHANTER.  127 

'*  Well,  now/'  said  he,  looking  from  one  to  the 
other  of  us,  "  you  have  caught  me,  have  n't  you  ? 
And  I  must  say  you  did  it  pretty  neat.  I  knew  it 
was  risky,  foolin'  with  sech  a  big  party,  but  for  the 
life  of  me  I  could  n?t  help  it.  Never  sech  a  chance 
turned  up  before  in  this  house  ! " 

"  But  who  are  you  ?  "  said  I. 

"  You  are  a  stranger  to  me,"  replied  the  little  man, 
"  and  you  would  n't  know  who  I  was  if  I  told  you. 
Now,  this  gentleman  knows  me,  and  I  know  him." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say,"  exclaimed  the  butcher, 
"  that  you  are  — " 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  interrupted  the  other. 

"And  you  are  the  ghost?  " 

"  Now,  tell  me,"  asked  the  little  man,  "  did  she  take 
me  for  a  ghost  ?  I  always  hoped  she  would,  but  I 
could  n't  help  feelin'  sort  of  oncertain  about  it." 

"  She  certainly  did/'  answered  the  butcher. 

"  That 's  what  I  call  real  jolly ! "  said  our  prisoner, 
rubbing  his  hands.  "Let's  go  in,  and  have  it  all 
out.  I  guess  I  've  served  my  time  as  a  spook,  and 
might  as  well  come  down  to  the  level  of  common 
people." 

As  the  butcher  had  released  his  hold  of  our  pris 
oner,  I  did  so  likewise.  The  little  man  now  started 
off,  and  went  around  the  house  to  the  front  door. 
We  followed,  and  he  led  us  into  the  hall  and  along 
the  passage  to  the  kitchen.  Entering  abruptly  he 
stopped  near  the  door,  and  exclaimed  in  a  cheery 
voice,  and  without  removing  his  cap:  "Now,  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  here  's  your  ghost !  What  do  you 
think  of  him  ? " 


128  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

The  party  had  been  anxiously  discussing  our  ab 
sence,  and  Lord  Crabstairs  and  the  schoolmaster 
were  about  to  start  out  to  look  for  us.  They  now  all 
stood  amazed,  gazing  wide-eyed  at  the  new-comer. 

Suddenly  Dolor  Tripp  stepped  forward.  "  Griscom 
Brothers  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  little  man,  "  I  am  Griscom 
Brothers.77 

"  In  the  name  of  common  sense,"  said  Doris, 
"  please  tell  me  what  you  two  are  talking  about  ?  Is 
this  the  pie  ghost  ? " 

"  Yes,  Madam,"  said  Griscom  Brothers.  "  And  not 
only  pie  but  bread,  both  wheat  and  Boston-brown, 
with  rye  to  order  ;  cakes  of  all  kinds,  especially  home 
made  ginger  5  and  family  bakings  and  roasts  on 
reasonable  terms.  In  a  word  —  Griscom  Brothers." 

"  Of  the  village  over  here,"  added  Dolor  Tripp,  in 
further  explanation. 

"  Griscom  Brothers,"  said  the  butcher,  in  a  tone  of 
confident  affirmation. 

All  this  was  as  surprising  to  me  as  it  was  to  the 
others.  As  for  Lord  Crabstairs,  he  stood  up  very 
straight  with  his  feet  wide  apart,  and  stared  at  Gris 
com  Brothers. 

"  Now,  really ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  It  is  Brothers,  is 
it?  And  the  ghost  of  a  baker  besides  ! " 

"No,  sir,"  spoke  up  quickly  the  little  man.  "I 
may  be  a  baker  ghost,  but  I  am  not  the  ghost  of  a 
baker  j  not  yet." 

"Are  you  two  in  one?"  asked  Lord  Crabstairs. 
"  If  not,  where  is  the  other  one  of  you  ?  " 

"My  brother,"  said  the  little  man,  "  who,  with  me, 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  129 

gave  our  business  its  firm  name,  has  been  deceased 
for  a  long  time." 

"  Then,"  said  Lord  Crabstairs,  "  Griscom  Brothers 
is  half  dead,  and  has  a  right  to  be  a  half  ghost." 

"  Aha !  "  said  the  little  man.  "  That  ?s  about  right. 
Half  the  time  I  'm  a  baker,  and  half  the  time  a  ghost. 
And  now,  then,  if  you  folks  care  to  hear  all  about  it, 
I  'm  ready  to  talk." 

"  Care  to  hear  !  "  said  Dolor  Tripp.  "  I  'm  on  pins 
and  needles  to  hear  !  " 

The  fire  was  now  built  up  afresh,  and  again  we 
placed  ourselves  on  our  chairs,  stools,  and  boxes  about 
the  hearth,  Griscom  Brothers  having  a  place  in  the 
middle,  between  Dolor  Tripp  and  Doris.  I  happened 
to  notice  that  in  this  arrangement  the  schoolmaster 
was  left  out,  and  was  standing  back  of  our  half-circle. 

But  as  the  schooolmaster  was  evidently  a  humble- 
minded  person  and  did  not  appear  to  object  to  his 
position,  I  thought  it  wise  not  to  disturb  the  company 
by  interrupting  the  story  which  the  baker  had  just 
begun. 


XIV 

WHAT  GRISCOM  BROTHERS  GOT  OUT  OF  A 
PUMPKIN   PIE 


B 


>Y  the  bright  light  of  the  fire  I  took 
a  good  look  at  Griscom  Brothers. 
He  appeared  to  be  about  fifty  years 
old,  with  a  merry  countenance, 
small  eyes,  grizzly  side-whiskers, 
and  below  his  white  paper  cap  a 
little  curly  grizzly  hair.  It  was 
%  plain  that  he  liked  to  talk,  and 
|  j  that  he  was  well  satisfied  with 
his  present  position.  "Now," 
said  he,  looking  from  side  to 
side,  "  I  know  who  you  all  are. 
You  are  the  people  from  the 
schooner  out  here  in  the  bay : 
and  as  I  've  told  you  who  I  am,  we  may  call  ourselves 
acquainted,  and  I  ;11  go  on  and  tell  about  the  ghost 
business  without  asking  any  questions  of  you ;  at  least 
not  now. 

"  I  ?ve  often  noticed,"  said  he,  giving  himself  a  little 
twist  in  his  chair,  "  that  when  a  man  sits  down,  fair 
and  square,  to  tell  a  story,  it  happens  time  and  again 

130 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  131 

that  ;the  story  don't  step  up  to  the  mark  as  lively  as  it 
ought  to,  and  when  it  does  show  it  self ,  it  is  n't  as 
much  of  a  story  as  it  was  expected  to  be.  I  should  n't 
wonder  if  my  story  should  be  that  way  ;  but  I  '11  take 
it  by  the  nape  of  the  neck  and  bring  it  right  in,  and 
let  you  folks  see  all  there  is  of  it. 

"  It  was  about  twelve  years  ago,  when  my  brother 
died  and  my  family  got  to  be  only  me,  that  I  found 
I  did  n't  get  sleep  enough.  You  see  that  being  a  baker 
I  am  obliged  to  go  to  my  work  very  early  in  the  morn 
ing,  mostly  about  three  o'clock,  and  that  if  I  don't  get 
a  good  sleep  in  the  first  part  of  the  night,  it  will  tell 
on  me.  You  know  that  sort  of  thing  will  tell  on 
people.  Now  the  room  I  slept  in  after  my  family  be 
came  so  small  was  Mrs.  Springer's  second-floor  back, 
and  every  Tuesday  night  the  Dorcas  Society  used  to 
meet  there,  and  them  women  kept  up  such  a  chatter 
ing  from  before  dark  to  nobody  knows  how  late  at 
night,  that  I  might  as  well  try  to  make  good  bread  of 
brick  clay  as  to  sleep ;  meaning  no  offense,  of  course," 
—  turning  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  ladies, —  "  if 
either  of  you  belongs  to  a  Dorcas  Society." 

"  Which  I  do  not,"  said  Doris ;  "  and  if  I  did  I 
would  n't  mind.77 

"Now,  you  see,"  continued  Griscom  Brothers, 
"  when  a  man  loses  his  night's  sleep  on  one  night  in 
the  week,  he  is  very  like  to  get  into  the  habit  of  losing 
it ;  that 's  what  I  did,  and  could  n't  stand  it.  At  that 
time  this  house  was  empty,  the  law  having  not  de 
cided  who  it  belonged  to,  and  it  came  into  my  head 
that  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to  come  over  here  and 
sleep.  There  would  be  no  Dorcas  Society  here,  or 


132  THE  MERRY    CHANTER. 

anything  else  to  disturb  me.  So  here  I  came,  finding 
it  easy  to  get  in  at  one  of  these  kitchen  windows  j  and 
I  fixed  up  a  bed  in  an  upper  room,  and  there  I  could 
sleep  like  a  toad  in  a  hole.  Of  course  I  did  n't  want 
to  hurt  Mrs.  Springer's  feelings,  and  I  never  said 
nothing  to  her  about  my  not  sleeping  in  the  house.  I 
went  upstairs  every  night  at  my  regular  bed-time  and 
I  rumpled  up  the  bed  and  went  away,  Mrs.  Springer 
not  knowing  whether  I  left  the  house  at  three  o'clock 
in  the  morning  or  nine  o'clock  at  night.  You  see  1 7m 
very  spry  at  getting  about  without  people  seeing  me  ; 
and  to  this  day  Mrs.  Springer  does  n't  know  that  for 
the  last  twelve  years  I  have  n't  slept  in  her  house  ex 
cept  on  some  very  stormy  nights." 

"  Paid  for  your  room  straight  along,  I  guess,"  re 
marked  the  butcher. 

"  Yes,  sir !  As  I  did  n't  pay  nothing  here  it  was  all 
right  I  should  pay  there.  Well,  after  I  had  kept  up 
this  thing  for  two  years,  you  and  your  sisters/'  turn 
ing  to  Dolor  Tripp,  "  came  here  to  live,  and  then  you 
may  be  sure  I  had  a  hard  nut  to  crack.  I  had 
become  so  accustomed  to  this  big,  quiet  house  that 
I  did  n't  believe  I  could  sleep  under  any  other 
roof,  and  so  I  said  to  myself,  'I  '11  stay  here,  and 
these  people  sha'n't  know  it  any  more  than  Mrs. 
Springer  does.'  There  ?s  a  loft  over  this  kitchen  which 
you  can't  get  into  except  by  that  trap-door  and  a 
ladder,  and  so  before  you  came  here  I  put  the  ladder 
up  into  the  loft,  and  put  a  bolt  on  the  other  side  of 
the  trap-door,  which  kept  me  private.  I  knew  you 
would  n't  want  to  use  the  loft,  and  I  thought  I  might 
as  well  have  it  as  not." 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER.  133 

",And  you  Ve  been  sleeping  there  for  ten  years ! " 
exclaimed  Dolor, 

"  That  's  about  the  time,"  said  Griscom  Brothers. 
"  I  put  everything  into  that  room  to  make  myself 
comfortable, —  not  your  things,  but  my  things, —  and 
I  got  in  and  out  through  a  little  window  in  the  roof. 
There  are  some  strips  nailed  on  for  a  grapevine,  and 
these  I  use  for  a  ladder.  I  can  go  up  and  down  in 
the  darkest  night  just  like  stairs.  I  can  get  into  the 
house  just  the  same  as  I  used  to,  because  the  lock  on 
the  back  door  of  the  main  house  is  one  I  put  there 
myself,  years  ago,  and  of  course  I  Ve  got  a  key  to  it. 
Not  long  after  you  came  I  got  to  going  over  the 
house  again,  principally  to  see  if  the  doors  and 
windows  were  all  shut  and  fastened.  You  was  a 
little  girl  then,  and  you  had  a  way  of  going  out  of 
doors  after  your  sisters  had  gone  to  bed.  You  never 
thought  of  shutting  up  when  you  came  back.  When 
you  got  to  be  a  big  girl,  and  even  a  young  woman, 
you  did  the  same  thing.  So  I  kept  on  taking  care  of 
things." 

"  It  strikes  me,"  said  Lord  Crabstairs,  who  had 
been  listening  very  attentively  to  the  baker's  story, 
"  that  you  had  rather  an  odd  way  of  getting  a  night's 
sleep.  Rambling  through  a  house  and  playing  ghost 
is  n't  the  way  to  refresh  a  man,  I  take  it." 

"  Now,  you  see,"  said  Griscom  Brothers,  "  the  p'int 
of  it  is  this.  When  I  was  at  Mrs.  Springer's  I  could 
n't  sleep  if  I  wanted  to,  but  in  this  house  I  could  go 
to  my  little  room  and  sleep  whenever  I  felt  like  it; 
that  makes  all  the  difference  in  the  world." 

"Yes,"  said  the  butcher;  "being  able  to  do  a  thing 
12 


134  THE    MERRY   CHANTER. 

is  often  just  as  much  good  to  a  person  as  do 
ing  it." 

"  Now  tell  me  another  thing,"  said  Lord  Crabstairs. 
"  What  did  you  mean  by  that  pumpkin  tart  ? " 

"  Tart ! "  exclaimed  the  baker. 

"  That  's  all  right,"  said  the  butcher.  "  We  tossed 
up,  and  tart  it  is." 

Griscom  Brothers  did  not  seem  to  understand,  but 
he  went  on  to  explain. 

"That  was  an  ordered  punkin  pie.  It  is  n't  the 
season  for  that  sort  of  thing,  and  nobody  but  me 
has  got  any  punkins  kept  over.  But  old  Mrs.  Gorm- 
ish  ordered  the  pie  for  her  grandchild's  christening, 
but  when  they  sent  for  Mr.  Black  he  could  n't  come, 
and  they  had  to  have  Mr.  Startling,  and  he  's  a  dys 
peptic,  and  so  the  old  lady  sent  word  to  me  she  did  n't 
want  no  pie,  and  it  was  left  on  my  hands.  I  always 
like  to  have  something  to  eat  before  I  start  out  in 
the  early  morning,  so  I  brought  this  with  me,  for 
there  is  n't  no  call  for  such.  When  you  people  came 
into  the  kitchen  I  was  fast  asleep,  but  I  jumped  up 
quick  enough  and  hurried  down  to  see  what  was  the 
matter.  I  was  at  the  window  seeing  and  listening  to 
pretty  nearly  all  you  did  and  said ;  and  when  I  heard 
you  talking  about  being  so  hungry  I  thought  of 
giving  you  that  pie,  and  I  locked  the  door  to  keep 
you  in  the  kitchen  until  I  thought  I  had  done  my 
duty  by  you." 

"  You  did  it  well,"  said  Boris.  "  It  was  a  good  pie." 

"I  dare  say,"  said  Lord  Crabstairs,  "that  in  this 
country  bakers  don't  sell  meat." 

"  No,"  said  Griscom  Brothers ;  "  as  a  rule  they  don't." 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER.  135 

»"  Well,  then/7  said  his  lordship,  u  as  we  are  pretty 
well  dried  and  warmed,  and  as  there  is  nothing  more 
to  eat,  we  might  as  well  be  getting  back  to  the  ship." 

We  all  agreed  that  this  was  the  proper  thing  to  do, 
and  we  rose  from  our  seats. 

"  Before  you  go,"  said  Griscom  Brothers,  address 
ing  Dolor  Tripp,  "I  want  to  settle  one  thing:  Do 
you  object  to  my  staying  on  in  that  little  loft,  or 
must  I  go  back  to  Mrs.  Springer?" 

"  I  think,"  said  Dolor  Tripp,  "  that  it  would  be 
much  better  for  you  to  stay  where  you  are  for  the 
present.  I  am  going  to  Boston,  and  when  I  come 
back  I  will  speak  to  my  sisters  about  it." 

"Then  I  '11  pack  up  my  goods,"  said  Griscom 
Brothers,  "  the  day  you  come  back,  for  I  know  what 
your  sisters  will  say." 

As  the  baker  finished  speaking  he  turned  suddenly, 
and  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  schoolmaster,  who  until 
this  moment  had  been  keeping  well  in  the  back 
ground.  For  an  instant  the  two  gazed  steadily  at 
each  other,  then  Griscom  Brothers  exclaimed, — 
almost  screamed: 

"Johnny!" 

The  schoolmaster,  with  his  long  arms  extended, 
rushed  upon  the  other,  and  in  a  moment  they  were 
folded  in  a  close  embrace. 

The  pie  ghost  was  the  schoolmaster's  father. 

For  a  few  moments  nothing  was  said,  and  we  gazed 
in  amazement  upon  the  embracing  couple.  Then  the 
butcher  beckoned  us  a  little  apart  and  said  in  a  low 
voice : 

u  That  young  man  ran  away  from  home  more  than 


130  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

twelve  years  ago.  I  did  n't  know  him,  for  all  that 
happened  before  I  came  to  these  parts,  but  I  have 
often  heard  the  story.  I  should  n't  wonder  if  he  has 
been  as  much  afraid  of  meeting  his  dad  as  of  running 
afoul  of  Mrs.  Bodship." 

Griscom  Brothers  now  stepped  forward,  holding 
his  son  by  the  hand. 

u  Ladies  and  gentlemen/'  he  said,  awho  could  have 
thought  it,  that  old  Mrs.  Gormish's  punkin  pie  should 
have  given  me  back  my  son !  If  it  had  n't  been 
that  she  threw  the  pie  on  my  hands  I  should  n't  have 
brought  it  here,  and  if  it  had  n't  been  here  I  should  n't 
have  tried  to  give  it  to  you,  and  if  I  had  n't  done  that 
you  never  would  have  ketched  me,  and  if  you  had  n't 
ketched  me  I  should  n't  have  known  that  my  Johnny 
was  with  you." 

"It  strikes  me,"  said  Lord  Crabstairs,  "that  you 
ought  to  thank  the  clergyman  who  ate  his  meals  so 
fast  that  he  gave  himself  dyspepsia.  If  he  had  been 
able  to  eat  pumpkin  tart  you  wouldn't  have  found 
your  son." 

"  Tart !  "  ejaculated  the  baker. 

"  Tart  it  is,"  said  the  butcher  ;  "  tossed  up  all 
square.  And  now  I  think  it  is  time  for  us  to  be 
moving." 

"  Johnny,"  said  Griscom  Brothers,  "  won't  you  stay 
with  me  to-night  ?  My  bed  is  wide  enough  for  two." 

But  the  schoolmaster  hesitated,  and  finally  said  he 
thought  it  would  be  better  for  him  to  go  back  to  the 
ship,  for  he  had  certain  work  to  do  in  the  morning. 

We  should  have  exclaimed  against  any  ship  work 
taking  this  new-found  son  from  his  father,  but  it  was 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  137 

quite  plain  that  the  schoolmaster  did  not  wish  to  stay. 
Perhaps  he  thought  that  if  he  walked  across  the 
country  in  broad  daylight  and  without  the  protection 
of  our  company  Mrs.  Bodship  might  pounce  upon  him 
in  spite  of  his  disguise. 

"  Very  well/'  said  his  father.  "  Perhaps  it 's  better 
for  you  to  go  ;  for  if  you  staid  here  we  should  talk  all 
night,  and  neither  of  us  get  any  sleep." 

'  The  schoolmaster  now  took  his  butcher's  gown  from 
the  crane,  where  in  the  course  of  its  frequent  shif tings 
it  had  received  a  number  of  broad  black  stripes,  and 
put  it  on. 

"  I  suppose  there  are  reasons  for  your  wearing 
that,"  said  his  father,  "  but  I  won't  ask  them  now.  If 
you  don't  sail  too  early  in  the  morning,  I'm  coming  to 
see  you  on  board  the  ship." 

"  We  shall  be  delighted  to  have  you  visit  us,"  cried 
Doris  ;  u  and  the  ship  shall  not  sail  until  you  arrive." 

Preceded  by  Griscom  Brothers,  who  carried  the 
candle,  we  now  left  the  kitchen.  When  we  reached 
the  long  hallway  our  leader  stopped,  and,  addressing 
Dolor  Tripp,  said  that  before  she  went  away  he  would 
like  to  show  her  the  picture  that  her  sister  was  paint 
ing  of  her. 

We  all  declared  that  we  should  like  to  see  that  pic 
ture,  and  the  baker  led  us  into  the  dining-room. 

"You  need  n't  be  afraid,"  he  said,  as  we  walked 
after  him,  "  of  waking  up  Alwilda  and  Lizeth ;  I 
never  knew  two  women  sleep  like  they  do.  I  believe 
their  eyelids  shut  with  a  snap  at  nine  o'clock,  and 
open  with  a  click  at  six  in  the  morning." 

The  dining-room  was  large  and  high,  with  plain, 


138  THE    MERRY   CHANTER. 

smooth  walls  entirely  unadorned  except  by  a  row  of 
pictures  painted  on  the  smooth  plaster,  at  about  the 
eye-line,  and  intended  to  extend  all  around  the  room. 
The  line  on  three  of  the  walls  was  completed. 
These  pictures  had  all  been  painted  by  Alwilda,  and 
the  style  of  them  proved  that  she  had  been  to  a  great 
extent  her  own  teacher.  The  subjects  were  various, 
and  some  of  them  quite  astonishing.  We  did  not  ex 
amine  the  whole  gallery,  but  proceeded  to  the  latest 
picture,  which  was  yet  unfinished. 

This  painting,  about  a  yard  square,  represented 
Dolor  Tripp  lying  drowned  by  the  sea-shore  —  this 
being  the  fate  which  her  sister  expected  would  befall 
her,  while  voyaging  to  Boston.  The  wretched  plight 
of  the  recumbent  corpse  made  us  shudder,  and  the 
subject  of  the  sketch  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

"It  is  outrageous!  it  is  shameful!"  cried  Doris. 
"  Such  a  thing  ought  not  to  be  allowed  to  exist ! " 

"  Which  it  should  n't,"  said  Lord  Crabstairs,  "  if  I 
had  a  pail  of  whitewash." 

"  And  a  brush,"  added  the  butcher. 

"  I  have  that,"  said  Doris,  who  had  been  looking 
about  her,  and  had  perceived  the  artist's  materials 
near  by. 

Doris  was  an  amateur  artist,  and,  moreover,  was 
quick  to  think  and  act.  With  a  palette,  a  few  colors, 
and  some  brushes,  she  stood  before  the  picture,  Gris- 
com  Brothers  holding  the  candle.  The  pallid  features 
of  the  drowned  maiden  soon  began  to  glow  with  rosy 
health;  her  eyes  were  closed,  but  it  was  plain  she 
slept;  the  sands  and  shallow  water  about  her  changed 
into  soft,  green  grass,  and  the  tall,  slimy  weeds  which 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  139 

had  thrown  themselves  about  her  form  were  now 
green,  wavy  stems  with  somewhat  too  brilliant  blos 
soms.  Even  the  rocks  were  covered  with  soft  moss, 
and  the  whole  scene  changed  so  rapidly  under  Doris's 
brush  that  we  were  filled  with  an  admiration  we  did 
not  hesitate  to  express. 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  it,"  said  Doris.  "  I  'm  sure 
there  ?s  nothing  soaked  or  dead  about  Dolor  Tripp  now." 

"  When  Alwilda  Tripp  sees  that,"  said  Griscom 
Brothers,  "  she  '11  think  there  's  been  a  miracle." 

" Which  there  has  been,"  remarked  the  butcher; 
"  an  out-and-out  square  miracle." 

"  I  don't  know  what  she  '11  think,"  said  Dolor  Tripp, 
"  but  I  know  what  I  think ;  "  and  she  kissed  Doris. 

I  think  we  all  would  have  been  delighted  to  be  in 
that  room  when  Alwilda  came  down  in  the  morning, 
but  we  spoke  no  more  upon  the  subject,  and  quickly 
left  the  house. 

"I'll  lock  the  door  and  make  everything  all  right," 
said  Griscom  Brothers,  u  and  soon  after  breakfast  I 
shall  be  down  at  the  shore  ready  to  be  took  on  board." 

The  schoolmaster  picked  up  his  tall  silk  hat,  which 
still  rested  on  the  top  of  the  sandpiper's  cage,  and  put 
it  on;  then  he  took  up  the  cage,  looked  in  at  the  bird, 
and  was  ready  to  go. 

"  Bless  my  soul ! "  exclaimed  Griscom  Brothers, 
"  you  look  like  a  holiday  butcher  that 's  been  half- 
broiled.  If  you  are  going  to  slaughter  that  bird,  don't 
do  it  until  I  come  in  the  morning." 

We  now  took  leave  of  the  baker  and  left  the  yard 
by  the  opening  in  the  fence,  after  which  the  loose 
palings  were  restored  to  their  proper  position  by 


140  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

the  butcher.  Though  the  moon  was  bright,  we  had 
some  difficulty  in  finding  our  way  on  account  of  the 
fog  which  was  coming  in  from  the  sea;  but  the 
butcher  was  now  our  guide,  and  without  serious 
mishap  or  much  detention  we  reached  the  shore, 
where  we  had  left  our  boat.  But  when  we  had 
embarked  we  found  the  fog  on  the  bay  so  thick  that 
we  could  not  see  a  boat's  length  in  any  direction. 
The  schooner,  however,  was  not  far  from  shore,  and 
we  thought  we  could  easily  reach  her;  but  in  this 
opinion  we  were  mistaken.  We  rowed  and  rowed, 
and  still  did  not  reach  the  ship.  How  we  could  have 
taken  a  wrong  direction  none  of  us  could  imagine, 
but  we  turned  the  boat  and  rowed  and  rowed  again. 

"  Can  it  be  possible,"  cried  Doris,  "  that  our  ship  has 
sailed  away  ?  " 

"  Absolutely  impossible ! "  said  the  butcher,  with 
much  fervency. 

We  now  rowed  about,  this  way  and  that,  for  at 
least  half  an  hour,  and  I  think  we  all  began  to  be 
afraid  that  perhaps  we  had  drifted  out  to  sea.  Sud 
denly  the  butcher  laid  down  his  oars  and  requested 
us  all  to  be  quiet;  then  standing  up  in  the  boat  he 
flapped  his  elbows  two  or  three  times  and  gave  forth 
a  loud  cock-a-doodle-do !  There  was  an  instant's 
silence,  and  then  not  far  away  from  the  stern  of  the 
boat  there  came  an  answering  cock-a-doodle-do  ! 

We  all  knew  that  this  came  from  the  cock  in  the 
rigging  of  the  Merry  Chanter. 

In  five  minutes  we  were  on  board. 

"  Past  midnight,"  said  Captain  Cyrus,  whose  watch 
it  was. 


XV 


WE   ARE   LOYAL  TO   THE   MERRY  CHANTER 


ARLY  the   next   morning  the   fog 
cleared  away,  and  soon  after  break 
fast  we  heard  a  hail  from  the  shore. 
"It  's  father ,"  cried  the  school 
master,  who  was  engaged  in  giving 
the  usual  morning  attentions  to  the 
sandpiper. 

And,  sure  enough,  looking  shoreward,  we  saw  Gris- 
com  Brothers  waving  something  white  in  his  hand  as 
if  it  were  a  flag  of  truce. 

Captain  Cyrus  went  after  him  in  the  boat,  and  very 
soon  the  good  baker  was  on  board. 

Bidding  us  all  a  cheery  good-morning,  he  handed 
the  white  article  to  the  butcher. 

"  Here  is  your  gown,"  he   said,  "  which  you  left  on 
the  grass  last  night ;   and  it  7s  a  very  good  thing  you 
did  so.    If  you  want  to  know  why,  I  '11  tell  you.7' 
We  all  wanted  to  know  why,  and  he  told  us. 
"You  see,"  said  he,    "we  always  serve  the  Tripp 
family  with   bread  on  Saturday   morning,  and  this 
morning    I    thought   I  would   deliver   it    myself.     I 
found  Lizeth  Tripp  at  the  chicken-yard,  and  she  was 
looking  as  if  she  had  had  a  bad  night. 

141 


142  THE    MERRY   CHANTER. 

"'Did  you  sleep  well?'  I  asked,  feeling  a  little 
nervous,  I  must  say,  fearing  she  had  heard  some 
thing  in  the  night. 

" '  Oh,  I  slept  well  enough/  said  she,  '  but  I  Ve 
seen  sights  this  morning/  'What  sights?'  says  I. 
'  Just  listen/  says  she.  '  When  I  opened  the  window 
early  this  morning  the  first  thing  that  I  saw  was 
something  white  lying  flat  on  the  grass,  with  its 
long  arms  stretched  out,  as  if  it  was  dead.  It  made 
me  jump,  I  tell  you,  for  at  first  I  thought  it  was  a 
spirit,  but  it  was  so  flat  and  thin  that  I  next  thought 
it  was  only  the  skin  of  a  spirit/  'Which  I  did  n't 
know  they  shed  them/  says  I.  '  Nor  I  neither/  says 
she.  'But  I  tell  you  it  frightened  me,  and  I  jumped 
back  from  that  window  and  went  downstairs;  and 
something  seemed  to  move  me  to  go  into  the  dining- 
room  and  look  at  the  picture  Alwilda  was  painting, 
and  when  I  saw  it  I  was  struck  worse  than  ever. 
I  tumbled  back  into  a  chair,  and  for  ever  so  long  I 
could  n't  move  for  staring.  By  good  luck  Alwilda 
did  n't  come  into  the  room,  being  busy  with  break 
fast.  And  now  I  have  just  come  out  to  ask  the  hired 
man  to  take  a  pitchfork  and  carry  off  that  skin  or 
whatever  it  is,  but  he  has  gone  away,  and  I  'm 
mighty  glad  to  see  you.  I  wish  you  'd  come  into 
the  dining-room  and  look  at  the  picture.'  So,  as 
innocent  as  a  lamb,  I  followed  her  into  the  dining- 
room,  and  looked  at  the  picture  which  you,  madam, 
touched  up  last  night.  I  must  say  that,  seeing  it  in 
the  daylight,  the  young  woman  in  the  grass  looked 
as  if  she  had  died  of  a  raging  fever  in  the  middle  of 
a  lot  of  red-hot  flowers.  '  What 's  the  matter  with  it  ? ' 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER.  143 

says- 1,  as  innocent  as  if  I  had  n't  seen  the  thing  done. 
'  It 's  been  changed/  says  she.  l  It  was  a  picture  of  a 
soaked  corpse,  and  now  it 's  a  sleeping  beauty ;  and  if 
the  spirit  of  Dolor  Tripp  did  n't  change  it,  I  'd  like  to 
know  what  spirit  did.  If  she  was  really  lost  at  sea 
that 's  just  the  way  she  'd  come  back  to  comfort  us.' 
'Now,  look  here,'  says  I,  'I  don't  believe  in  spirits 
anyway,  and  if  there  was  any,  they  could  n't  paint/ 

"Having  been  a  ghost  myself,"  he  said,  looking 
round  the  company  with  a  smile,  "  I  ought  to  know 
what  they  can  do. 

" '  Now  then/  says  I  to  Lizeth  Tripp, '  it 's  my  opin 
ion  that  your  sister  Alwilda  began  to  feel  bad  about 
this  picture,  and  so  she  altered  it  herself.  Now  if  I 
was  you  1 7d  rub  out  the  whole  thing  —  that  is,  if  it 
can  be  rubbed  out/  1 1  can  clean  it  all  off  the  wall/ 
says  she ;  i  for  I  've  often  seen  Alwilda  do  that  thing 
when  she  did  n't  like  a  picture,  and  wanted  to  paint  it 
over  again.'  And  with  that  she  went  and  got  a  steel 
thing  like  a  hoe,  and  scraped  every  scrap  of  that  pic 
ture  off  the  smooth  wall.  l  There  should  n't  be  no 
such  picture  in  the  house/  says  she,  '  whether  it 's  of 
a  drowned  sister,  or  of  one  asleep  on  the  broad  of  her 
back  in  the  middle  of  a  field ;  and  as  fast  as  Alwilda 
paints  them  I  '11  scrape  'em  out.' 

"Now  it  seems  to  me,"  said  Griscom  Brothers, 
"  that  I  got  us  all  out  of  that  scrape  pretty  well." 

"  That  ?s  your  way  of  looking  at  it,"  said  Lord 
Crabstairs ;  "  but  it  strikes  me  that  Lizeth  Tripp  is 
going  to  get  herself  into  a  lot  of  scrapes  if  she  keeps 
on  scraping  out  her  sister's  pictures." 

"  Well,"  continued  the  baker,  "  there  was  n't  noth- 


144  THE    MERRY   CHANTER. 

ing  left  to  clear  up  but  that  white  thing  on  the  grass, 
and  when  I  looked  at  it  I  told  Lizeth  it  was  nothing 
but  a  butcher's  gown,  that  most  likely  had  blown  over 
there  in  the  storm.  I  didn't  know  it  was  yours  until 
I  picked  it  up  and  saw  your  name  on  it.  So  I  said 
I  'd  take  it  away  with  me  ;  and  I  left  as  quick  as  I 
could,  for  I  did  n?t  want  to  have  to  clear  up  anything 
more." 

We  all  agreed  that  Griscom  Brothers  had  done  his 
part  well,  and  he  now  retired  to  the  bow  of  the  ship 
to  hold  converse  with  his  son. 

Dolor  Tripp  was  very  anxious  that  this  conversa 
tion  should  be  speedily  terminated,  so  that  we  might 
sail  away.  She  feared  that  if  there  should  be  a  quar 
rel  between  Alwilda  and  Lizeth  on  account  of  the  one 
scraping  out  the  pictures  of  the  other,  it  might  become 
necessary  for  her  to  go  home  and  act  as  peacemaker; 
but  if  she  were  actually  on  her  way  to  Boston,  this 
would  not  be  possible. 

Captain  Timon,  however,  assured  her  there  was  no 
hurry,  and  that  Griscom  Brothers  would  have  time  to 
talk  with  his  son  as  long  as  he  liked. 

In  half  an  hour  the  baker  left  us. 

"  I  don't  suppose  you  '11  sail  on  Sunday,"  he  said ; 
"  and  if  you  don't  get  off  to-day,  I  '11  come  on  board 
again  to-morrow." 

"  We  shall  never  sail  on  Sunday,"  said  the  butcher, 
speaking  very  positively  indeed. 

I  looked  at  the  butcher,  and  he  looked  at  me,  and 
we  both  looked  at  Captain  Timon,  who  looked  out 
over  the  sea. 

We  did  not  sail  on  Sunday,  and  on  Monday  evening 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  145 

Doris  took  me  aside  for  what  she  called  a  serious  con 
versation. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  she  said,  "  that  as  owners  of  this 
ship  we  are  not  doing  our  duty  by  our  passengers. 
The  butcher  came  on  board  and  paid  his  passage  to 
Boston  5  we  are  not  taking  him  to  Boston.  Lord 
Crabstairs  came  on  board  to  go  to  Boston  j  he  paid 
his  passage,  and  we  are  not  taking  him  there.  The 
schoolmaster  came  on  board  to  go  somewhere,  and  we 
are  not  taking  him  anywhere.  It  is  true  he  paid  for 
no  passage ;  but  we  promised  to  take  him  to  Boston, 
and  we  are  not  taking  him.  Dolor  Tripp  is  worse  off 
than  the  others,  because  she  is  really  afraid  that  if  we 
do  not  soon  start  something  will  make  it  necessary 
for  her  to  go  home.  As  for  ourselves,  we  have  taken 
our  chances,  and  must  be  content ;  and  as  to  the  four 
captains,  they  also  have  taken  their  chances.  They 
undertook  to  sail  the  Merry  Chanter  to  Boston,  and  if 
they  are  delayed  on  the  voyage  it  is  no  more  our  affair 
than  it  is  theirs.  But  when  people  pay  money  for 
their  passage  it  is  a  different  matter." 

I  had  been  fishing  that  day  with  Lord  Crabstairs, 
and  had  had  very  good  luck.  I  expected  to  go  out 
again  the  next  day,  and  I  said  to  Doris  that  for  the 
present  I  thought  we  were  all  very  well  off  as  we 
were. 

"  I  am  very  well  satisfied  to  wait/'  said  Doris,  "  for 
it  is  very  pleasant  here  and  our  living  is  certainly 
cheap;  but  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  our  duty 
towards  our  passengers." 

"  What  can  we  do  for  them  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  We  can  do  one  of  two  things,"  answered  Doris. 
13 


146  THE    MERRY    CHAPTER. 

"  We  can  pay  them  back  their  passage  money,  or 
send  them  to  Boston  by  rail." 

"  Either  one  of  those  things  would  be  pretty  hard 
on  us/7 1  said,  "  especially  after  having  boarded  and 
lodged  them  all  this  time." 

"  That  has  nothing  to  do  with  it/'  said  Doris. 
"Justice  is  justice,  and  we  should  not  take  their 
money  and  keep  them  waiting  and  waiting  here  for 
an  exceptional  high  tide." 

I  reflected  a  few  moments.  "  It  would  be  well/'  I 
said,  "  to  find  out  what  they  think  about  it.  Let  us 
call  a  meeting  of  the  ship's  company." 

"Good!"  cried  Doris;  "and  you  must  preside. 
You  are  the  proper  person  to  take  the  chair." 

After  supper  the  meeting  was  called,  and  the  whole 
population  of  the  ship,  including  Griscom  Brothers, — 
who  had  come  on  board  for  an  evening  visit, — 
attended. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen/'  said  I, —  and  the  moment  I 
had  uttered  these  words  I  knew  that  I  had  made  a  mis 
take.  I  should  have  said  "  shipmates,  "  or  something 
of  that  sort,  but  I  went  on,  — "  my  wife  and  I  have 
concluded  that  we  are  not  doing  our  duty  by  you. 
We  do  not  know  exactly  when  we  shall  be  able  to 
sail,  and  we  have  thought  that  it  might  be  better  to 
send  you  to  Boston  by  the  railroad." 

At  this  a  little  murmur  seemed  to  run  through  the 
company,  and  Doris  interrupted  me. 

"  My  husband  does  not  mean,"  she  said,  "  that  we 
have  decided  to  send  you  to  Boston  by  rail.  What 
we  desire  is,  to  give  you  an  opportunity  of  expressing 
your  feelings  in  regard  to  the  situation.  You  have 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  147 

paid  your  money,  and  you  are  entitled  to  a  passage 
on  this  ship  to  Boston  j  but  if  you  think  you  would 
rather  not  wait  any  longer,  we  will  consult  together 
and  see  what  it  will  be  best  to  do.  It  may  be  that 
you  would  like  to  go  to  Boston  by  rail." 

At  this  another  murmur,  louder  than  the  first,  was 
heard  from  the  company,  and  the  butcher  rose  to  his 
feet, 

" Is  a  motion  in  order?"  he  asked. 

u  Yes,"  said  Doris. 

I  felt  that  I  was  presiding  over  this  meeting  in 
rather  an  odd  way,  but  the  oddity  did  not  seem  to 
strike  any  one  else,  and  the  butcher  put  his  motion. 

"  I  move  that  we  stick  to  the  ship,"  said  he. 

Lord  Crabstairs  leaned  towards  Dolor  Tripp. 
"  What  do  you  think  about  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  If  I  do  not  go  to  Boston  in  this  ship,"  she  answered, 
"  I  shall  not  go  at  all." 

"  Second  the  motion,"  called  out  Lord  Crabstairs. 

"  Before  the  motion  is  put,"  said  Doris,  "  we  ought 
to  hear  what  the  captains  have  to  say  about  it." 

The  four  captains  stood  in  a  row  on  the  starboard 
side  of  the  deck.  Being  older  and  more  accustomed  to 
speak,  Captain  Timon  spoke  for  his  fellow-mariners. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  each  of  us  put  some  money  into 
this  venture,  and  of  course  we  don't  want  to  lose  it. 
If  we  don't  get  to  Boston  our  money  is  lost.  If  that 
money  is  lost,  we  want  to  be  able  to  say  that  it  was  n't 
lost  because  we  gave  up  the  v'yage  too  soon,  but  we 
want  to  be  able  to  say  it  was  lost  because  a  gale  of 
wind  an'  a  high  tide  did  n't  come  into  Shankashank 
Bay  together.  Of  course  that  gale  an'  that  tide  may 


148  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

never  come  in  together,  but  we  're  in  favor  of  givin' 
them  a  leetle  longer  chance.  A  good  many  things  in 
this  world  would  do  a  sight  better  than  they  do  do  if 
they  had  a  leetle  longer  chance.  So  we  four  are  in 
favor  of  stickin'  to  the  ship." 

He  looked  at  his  companions,  and  each  one  gave  an 
affirmative  nod. 

The  question  was  put,  and  it  was  unanimously 
resolved  to  stick  to  the  ship. 

"  Three  cheers !  "  cried  Doris.  And  the  ship's  com 
pany  gave  three  hearty  cheers. 

During  the  meeting  Gri scorn  Brothers  had  neither 
voted  nor  spoken,  but  he  cheered  with  the  others. 

"  Not  being  an  owner,  a  passenger  or  a  captain," 
said  he,  "  of  course  this  is  n't  my  business,  but  I  'm 
mighty  glad  to  see  you  're  going  to  stand  by  the  ship. 
It  is  n't  everybody  that  's  got  a  ship  to  stand  by. 
That 's  what  I  said  to  my  Johnny.  l  Stand  by  the 
ship.  If  you  're  going  to  Boston,  go.  When  you 
come  back,  I  '11  take  you  into  the  baking  business,  or 
you  can  keep  on  with  your  schoolmastering;  but 
whatever  you  do,  you  must  stick  to  it.'  That 's  what 
I  said  to  my  Johnny.  And  now  I  say  to  the  rest  of 
you,  if  you  don't  sail  to-morrow  morning  I  '11  drop  in 
and  see  you  in  the  afternoon." 

"  It 's  my  opinion,"  said  the  butcher  to  us  when 
Griscom  Brothers  had  gone  on  shore,  "  that  the 
schoolmaster  would  rather  go  to  baking  than  go  to 
sea,  but  he  's  afraid  to  show  himself  on  land  till  his 
father  has  settled  matters  with  Mrs.  Bodship.  If  any 
man  can  do  it  Griscom  Brothers  can  do  it,  and  he's 
promised  to  try." 


XVI 


DOLOR  TRIPP  SETS   SAIL 


HE  very  next  day  a  gale  came  into 
the  bay  with   a  flood  tide;  but  al 
though  the  wind  was  strong  enough 
to  stir  up  a  very  fine  storm,  it  did 
not  blow  enough  water  into  the  bay 
to  float  the  Merry  Chanter. 
Our  four  captains  were  all  ready  to  take  advantage 
of  the  first  indication  that  our  ship  was  free  to  ride 
the  waves ;  but  no  such  indication  came. 

"  1 7m  afraid  she  >s  voted  to  stick  to  the  sand  bar," 
said  the  butcher,  when  the  tide  began  to  ebb. 

"With  this  exception,  none  of  us  showed  any  signs 
of  giving  up  hope.  There  would  be  another  high  tide 
in  twelve  hours,  and  the  gale  might  increase  in 
violence. 

But  although  the  storm  did  not  move  our  ship,  it 
greatly  delighted  some  of  our  company.  The  bow  of 
the  vessel  pointed  out  towards  the  sea,  and  for  nearly 
the  whole  day  one  or  the  other  of  the  ladies  stood 
there  enjoying  the  storm.  "When  Doris  occupied  this 
post  I  was  with  her,  and  when  Dolor  Tripp  was  there 
the  butcher  stood  on  one  side  of  her  and  Lord  Crab- 
stairs  on  the  other. 

149 


150  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

They  could  have  had  no  better  opportunity  of 
thoroughly  enjoying  the  storm.  The  waves  rolled  in, 
sometimes  dashing  up  to  the  very  feet  of  the  figure 
of  the  Merry  Chanter,  and  sometimes  throwing  the 
spray  over  his  head  and  into  our  faces.  The  wind 
whistled  through  the  cordage  and  blew  the  cock  from 
the  rigging.  Fortunately  he  alighted  upon  the  deck, 
where  he  had  not  set  foot  since  he  had  been  brought 
to  the  ship,  and  he  ran  screaming  and  flapping  to  the 
coops  where  the  other  fowls  were  sheltered. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  Doris  and  Dolor  Tripp  could 
not  get  enough  of  this  turmoil  of  the  elements. 

"  To  see  it  all  and  be  in  it,"  said  Doris,  when  we 
had  gone  down  to  the  cabin  for  a  brief  rest ;  "  to  feel 
the  storm  and  not  to  be  afraid  of  it ;  to  look  upon  the 
rolling,  tossing  waves  and  yet  feel  the  deck  as  immov 
able  as  a  floor  beneath  our  feet ;  to  fancy  we  hear  the 
Merry  Chanter  shouting  his  sea-songs  into  the  very 
teeth  of  the  storm  —  it  is  grand !  it  is  glorious !  and 
it  is  perfectly  safe ! " 

For  my  part  I  very  soon  got  enough  of  the  turmoil 
of  the  elements,  and  I  fancy  that  the  butcher  and 
Lord  Crabstairs  were  satisfied  as  easily  as  I  was; 
but,  although  I  frequently  entreated  Doris  to  shorten 
the  time  of  her  observations  at  the  bow,  I  do  not 
believe  that  the  supporters  of  Dolor  Tripp  gave  the 
least  sign  that  they  did  not  like  the  sea  wind  almost 
to  take  away  their  breath,  or  the  sea  water  to  dash 
into  their  faces  and  drench  their  clothes.  The  young 
woman  was  enveloped  in  a  waterproof  cloak  and  hood; 
and  although  the  butcher  possessed  a  garment  of  this 
kind,  he  would  not  put  it  on,  because  by  so  doing  he 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  151 

would  have  confessed  himself  less  able  to  endure  bad 
weather  than  Lord  Crabstairs,  who  had  forgotten  to 
provide  a  mackintosh  for  the  voyage. 

Once  I  proposed  to  Doris  to  allow  the  schoolmaster 
to  have  the  pleasure  of  gazing  at  the  storm  with  her, 
but  she  indignantly  repudiated  the  proposition. 

"  Look  at  those  two  men/'  she  said ;  u  do  they  flinch 
from  the  side  of  the  woman  they  love ! " 

And  of  course  after  that  I  had  nothing  more  to  say 
about  a  substitute. 

The  storm  did  not  increase  in  violence,  but  gradu 
ally  subsided,  and  the  next  day  was  pleasant  and 
clear.  Doris  occupied  herself  with  her  little  chicks. 
The  schoolmaster  opened  the  cage  of  the  sandpiper, 
which  had  become  quite  tame,  and  allowed  the  bird 
to  take  a  constitutional  upon  the  deck.  The  cock  flew 
back  to  his  old  position  in  the  rigging  and  crowed 
aloud  his  satisfaction  at  again  feeling  himself  above 
us  all.  Everything  seemed  to  be  going  on  in  the 
same  quiet  and  pleasant  methods  to  which  we  had 
become  accustomed  before  the  gale  had  tantalized  us 
with  a  half  hope  of  Boston. 

But  in  fact  everything  was  not  going  on  quietly 
and  pleasantly.  Lord  Crabstairs  and  the  butcher 
were  unquiet  and  unpleasant;  that  is,  to  each  other. 
By  the  advice  of  Captain  Timon  they  had  estab 
lished  a  system  in  regard  to  Dolor  Tripp.  After 
breakfast  one  of  them  would  take  the  first  watch, 
and  at  the  end  of  an  hour  would  relinquish  his  posi 
tion  by  her  side  to  the  other.  When  the  second 
watch  of  an  hour  had  ended,  each  of  the  men  would 
give  the  lady  an  hour  to  herself,  thus  allowing  her  to 


152  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

be  undisturbed  until  noon ;  after  dinner  each  man 
went  on  watch  for  an  hour,  and  then  Dolor  Tripp  had 
two  hours  to  herself.  After  supper  there  were  no 
watches,  because  Captain  Timon  declared  that  as 
long  as  he  commanded  the  ship  he  would  see  no 
woman  overworked. 

But  this  apparently  amicable  arrangement  did  not 
serve  its  purpose.  It  gave  each  man  a  fair  chance, 
but  each  man  wanted  more.  They  had  become  of 
little  social  advantage  to  us,  for  the  one  who  hap 
pened  to  be  off  duty  was  inclined  to  be  silent  and  was 
continually  looking  at  his  watch. 

As  for  Dolor  Tripp  herself,  Doris  and  I  could  see  no 
reason  to  suppose  that  she  liked  one  man  better  than 
the  other.  With  Crabstairs  she  was  lively  and  beam 
ing,  and  apparently  delighted  that  it  was  his  watch. 
With  the  butcher  she  was  lively  and  beaming,  and 
delighted  that  he  was  on  duty. 

"  What  '&  wanted  on  this  ship,"  said  Captain 
Timon  to  us,  "  is  one  man  less,  or  one  woman  more. 
If  each  of  them  fellers  had  a  gal  it  'd  be  all  right,  but 
one  gal  is  n't  enough  for  two  of  'em." 

"What  would  you  do  about  it?"  asked  Doris,  who  was 
beginning  to  be  disturbed  at  the  turn  things  had  taken. 

"  I 'd  chuck  one  of  them  overboard,"  said  the  cap 
tain,  "  an'  let  him  swim  ashore." 

"  Which  one  would  you  chuck  ? "  I  asked. 

"  The  Englishman,"  said  the  captain.  "  If  I  've  got 
to  haul  down  any  flag,  I  'd  haul  down  the  Union  Jack 
before  the  Stars  and  Stripes." 

"  That  would  n't  be  fair,"  said  Doris.  "  One  has  just 
as  much  right  as  the  other." 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  153 

-"  I  suppose  that 's  so/7  said  Captain  Timon,  with  a 
grin  ;  u  an'  as  we  can't  chuck  the  young  woman  over, 
board,  I  guess  we'll  have  to  let  the  matter  settle 
itself." 

"  It  seems  to  me/'  said  I,  when  the  captain  had  left 
us,  "that  a  marriage  with  a  British  peer  would  be 
of  much  more  advantage  than  a  marriage  with  a 
butcher." 

"  I  don't  agree  with  you/'  said  Doris.  "  Lord  Crab- 
stairs  has  repudiated  his  peerage,  and  the  butcher  has 
repudiated  his  butcherage ;  they  now  stand  on  equal 
ground.  Before  Lord  Crabstairs  was  overtaken  and 
crushed  by  his  title  he  was  quite  as  free  and  in 
dependent  a  man  as  the  butcher  is,  and  now  that  he  has 
escaped  from  his  peerage  he  is  again  just  as  good  as 
the  butcher.  He  has  told  us  he  has  a  small  income 
not  derived  from  his  father's  family,  and  the  butcher 
has  saved  money,  so  in  every  way  they  are  even,  and 
Dolor  Tripp  ought  to  be  allowed  to  take  her  choice 
between  them." 

"  The  trouble  will  be,"  said  I,  "  to  induce  her  to 
make  a  choice.  I  think  she  likes  to  have  two  men 
courting  her,  and  the  affair  will  probably  end  in  a 
fight  on  the  Merry  Chanter." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  exclaimed  Doris.  "  Neither  of 
those  men  would  so  far  forget  himself  as  to  fight  on 
my  ship." 

"  Your  ship  !  "  I  said. 

"  Oh,  I  meant  to  say  ours,"  she  answered. 

The  next  day  the  butcher  took  the  first  watch  with 
Dolor  Tripp.  At  eight  o'clock  precisely  he  offered 
her  his  arm,  and  invited  her  to  walk  the  deck  with 


154  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

him.  I  noticed  that  his  face  wore  a  serious  expression, 
and  that  he  was  extremely  deferential  and  polite  to 
his  companion,  guiding  her  carefully  around  the  wet 
places  on  deck,  which  were  still  damp  from  the  morn 
ing's  swabbing,  and  apparently  paying  the  strictest 
attention  to  what  she  might  be  saying,  as  if  he  was 
anxious  not  to  lose  a  word  of  her  sweet  speech. 

In  the  mean  time  Lord  Crabstairs  appeared  to  be  in 
a  very  unquiet  mood.  He  was  restless  and  excited, 
and  finally  filled  his  pockets  with  corn  and  ran  up  into 
the  rigging,  where  he  fed  the  cock,  who  for  some  time 
had  been  crowing  for  his  breakfast.  The  moment 
that  the  butcher's  watch  had  come  to  an  end  Lord 
Crabstairs  scuttled  down  the  rope  ladder  so  fast  that 
we  were  afraid  he  would  slip  and  break  his  neck. 
In  an  instant  he  was  at  the  side  of  Dolor  Tripp,  and 
giving  her  his  arm,  rapidly  conducted  her  to  the  bow 
of  the  ship,  this  portion  of  the  deck  being  now  unten- 
anted.  The  butcher  walked  slowly  towards  us  as  we 
sat  in  our  customary  seats  at  the  stern. 

"  You  are  going  to  lose  a  passenger,"  he  said. 

"  Which  one  ? "  we  cried. 

"  That  depends  on  circumstances,"  said  the  butcher. 
"  You  see  I  made  up  my  mind  last  night  that  things 
could  n't  go  on  as  they  were  going  on,  and  so  right 
after  breakfast  I  proposed  to  him  that  we  should  toss 
up  and  decide  which  should  put  the  question  to  her. 
We  >d  agreed  that  neither  of  us  should  do  that  with 
out  giving  the  other  notice.  He  was  ready,  quick 
as  lightning,  and  we  tossed.  He  called  '  heads/  and 
heads  it  was  twice.  And  he 's  got  her." 

"  But  she  may  not  accept  him,"  cried  Doris. 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  155 

li  Oh,  she  11  take  him ;  there 's  no  doubt  about 
that,"  said  the  butcher  looking  solemnly  down  at  the 
deck.  "  If  he  proposes  first  she  '11  take  him,  and  if  I 
had  proposed  first  she  would  have  taken  me.  Neither 
of  us  had  any  doubt  on  that  point." 

Fifteen  minutes  later  no  one  on  board  could  have 
had  any  doubt  on  that  point,  for  Lord  Crabstairs  and 
Dolor  Tripp  walked  towards  us,  the  one  with  a  down 
cast,  blushing  face,  and  the  other  with  the  most  beam 
ing,  joy-lighted  countenance  I  ever  saw. 

"You  see,"  said  Lord  Crabstairs,  "we  have  just 
stepped  aft  to  announce  our  engagement.  We  did  n't 
think  it  exactly  the  square  thing  in  a  small  party  like 
this  to  keep  dark  about  it  even  for  a  short  time." 

"As  if  you  could  do  it!77  cried  Doris.  And  then 
we  congratulated  the  happy  couple,  the  butcher 
shaking  hands  with  each  of  them  with  a  degree  of 
earnest  solemnity  not  common  on  such  occasions. 

Lord  Crabstairs  and  his  lady-love  now  went  below 
to  acquaint  the  schoolmaster  and  the  four  captains 
with  what  had  occurred. 

"  And  now,"  said  Doris  to  the  butcher,  "  what  were 
you  going  to  say  about  our  losing  a  passenger?'7 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  if  they  stay  on  board  I  go,  but  if 
they  go  ashore  I  '11  stay  here.  I  don't  want  to  go  back 
on  my  word  about  sticking  to  the  ship,  but  circum 
stances  often  give  a  new  twist  to  things." 

"Indeed  they  do,"  said  Doris,  speaking  in  a  very 
sympathetic  tone  and  offering  her  hand  to  the 
butcher. 

"  I  ?m  mighty  glad  of  it,"  said  Captain  Cyrus  to  us 
a  little  while  afterwards.  "  I  don't  know  when  I  've 


156  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

heard  anythin'  that 's  pleased  me  better.  For  the  life 
of  me  I  could  n't  see  how  they  were  goin'  to  get  out 
of  that  fix  without  its  endin'  in  a  row.  It  was  only 
yesterday,  madam,  that  I  thought  that  if  you  was 
only  disengaged  it  would  be  all  right,  for  then  there 
would  be  two  young  women,  one  for  each  of  them  j 
but  you  was  settled  for,  and  there  was  only  one 
young  woman  for  the  two  men.  But  now  it  's  all 
straightened  out  and  we  can  have  peace  on  board." 
I  wish  here  to  record  the  fact  that  from  that  mo 
ment  I  never  made  a  voluntary  observation  to  Captain 
Cyrus  Bodship. 


XVII 

HOW  LIZETH   AND   ALWILDA   TOOK   IT 

|HEN  Griscom  Brothers  came  on 
board  that  afternoon  and  heard 
the  news  he  was  delighted. 

"I   thought   it  would  come   to 
that,"  he  said.    "  Title  is  bound  to 
get  ahead  of  meat.    And  what  do 
the  happy   lovers   intend   to  do  I 
Will  they  remain  on  board  and  go  to  Boston?" 

"No,"  said  Doris 5  "they  leave  us  this  afternoon. 
Dolor  Tripp  is  in  her  cabin  packing  her  trunk.  She 
will  go  home  to  her  sisters,  and  Lord  Crabstairs  will 
lodge  in  the  village,  where  he  can  go  and  see  her  every 
day.  They  are  to  be  married  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  I  am  mighty  glad,"  said  Griscom  Brothers,  "  that 
Dolor  Tripp  is  going  home ;  she  7s  needed  there.  Ever 
since  Lizeth  scraped  out  Alwilda's  picture  them  two 
sisters  have  n't  spoke.  That  sort  of  thing  has  hap 
pened  before.  As  much  as  six  weeks  or  two  months 
has  passed  without  either  of  them  speaking  a  word 
to  each  other,  and  at  such  times  Dolor  has  to  be  a 
sort  of  go-between  to  tell  one  what  the  other  wants. 
They  Ve  had  a  pretty  tough  pull  of  it  this  time 
without  her." 

14  157 


158  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

"  What  do  they  do,"  I  asked ;  "  make  signs  to  each 
other?" 

"  No, "  said  the  baker.  "  When  one  of  them  has  to 
ask  something  of  the  other,  she  goes  out  to  the  hired 
man  and  tells  him  to  go  into  the  house  and  speak  to 
her  sister.  But  his  boots  are  so  dirty  that  they  never 
do  this  unless  they  are  positively  obliged  to.  Lizeth 
told  me  that  yesterday  she  was  nearly  starving  for 
butter  because  she  could  n't  make  up  her  mind  to  tell 
that  man  to  ask  Alwilda  where  she  had  put  the  milk- 
house  key." 

Dolor  Tripp  now  came  on  deck  ready  to  go  ashore, 
and  in  a  few  moments  Lord  Crabstairs  appeared, 
glowing  with  ruddy  joy,  and  loaded  with  a  huge 
valise,  a  bundle  of  rugs,  a  hat-box,  and  a  collection  of 
umbrellas  and  canes. 

Their  intention  was  to  go  together  and  acquaint 
the  sisters  of  Dolor  Tripp  with  what  had  happened, 
and  ask  their  blessing.  Doris  thought  it  was  the 
proper  thing  for  her  to  go  with  Dolor,  and  as  it 
promised  to  be  an  interesting  occasion  I  thought  it 
the  proper  thing  to  go  with  Doris.  Griscom  Brothers 
said  that  on  his  way  to  the  village  he  could  stop  at  the 
Tripp  house  just  as  well  as  not,  and  that  he  would  do 
it ;  whereupon  the  schoolmaster  remarked  that  as  the 
party  would  be  so  large  he  would  not  be  afraid  to  go 
with  them  himself.  At  first  the  butcher  seemed  in 
clined  to  stay  on  board,  but  after  taking  me  aside  and 
remarking  that  if  he  did  not  go  with  us  it  might  look 
as  if  he  were  showing  bad  feeling  in  the  matter,  he 
joined  the  party. 

Only  the  four  captains  remained  on  the  Merry 


THE    MERRY   CHAPTER.  159 

Chanter.  These  faithful  mariners  must  be  at  their 
posts  in  case  the  exceptional  wind  and  the  exceptional 
tide  came  into  the  bay  together. 

Our  boat  had  to  make  two  trips  before  we  were  all 
landed,  and  then  we  walked  to  the  house.  Griscom 
Brothers  and  the  schoolmaster  carried  the  huge 
valise,  in  order  that  Lord  Crabstairs  could  give  one 
arm  to  his  lady-love ;  and  the  butcher,  to  his  honor 
be  it  said,  relieved  his  late  rival  of  the  hat-box  and  the 
package  of  umbrellas  and  canes.  Dolor  Tripp  said 
she  could  send  the  hired  man  for  her  baggage. 

We  found  Lizeth  in  the  poultry-yard. 

"  Lizeth,"  said  Dolor  Tripp,  blushing  a  li ttle,  "  this 
is  Lord  Crabstairs." 

"  Lord  which  ?"  exclaimed  Lizeth. 

"  Crabstairs,"  replied  her  sister  ;  "  and  we  are 
going  to  be  married." 

Lizeth  looked  at  them  in  astonishment.  "  You 
two !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Only  the  two  of  us,"  said  Dolor.  "  And  I  want 
you  to  like  him,  Lizeth  ;  you  ought  to  like  your 
brother-in-law." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  said  Lizeth,  speaking  slowly, 
"  that  this  man  is  a  sure-enough  foreign  lord  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  her  sister ;  "  he 's  an  out-and-out  peer 
of  the  British  realm." 

Lizeth  looked  as  if  she  were  going  to  whistle,  but 
she  did  not. 

"  It  is  a  fair  and  square  thing  for  me  to  say,"  re 
marked  Lord  Crabstairs,  "  that  I  am  a  lord  against 
my  will,  and  my  title  brings  me  no  property  except 
two  centuries  of  debts." 


160  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

"But  you  really  are  an  English  nobleman?"  asked 
Lizeth. 

"  Yes,"  said  Lord  Crabstairs,  "  I  am." 

Lizeth  now  looked  steadfastly  at  her  sister  and  at 
the  sturdy  Englishman  by  her  side.  Then  she  looked 
at  the  rest  of  us,  and  then  spoke. 

"  I  don't  believe  in  monarchies,"  she  said,  "  nor  in 
kings,  nor  in  crowns  and  scepters,  nor  in  aristocra 
cies,  nor  in  peers  and  realms.  I  am  a  plain,  free- 
born,  independent  republican,  and  look  down  upon 
empires  and  thrones.  My  ancestors  did  not  come 
over  in  the  Mayflower,  but  I  am  quite  sure  that  they 
came  in  a  plain,  wooden  ship,  and  did  n't  put  on  any 
airs.  As  I  said  before,  1 7ve  nothing  to  do  with  peers 
and  peeresses,  nor  kings  and  queens.  I  am  a  free- 
born  American,  and  a  free-born  American  I  shall  die, 
but  if  he  really  is  a  lord  I  suppose  he  can  have  you." 
At  this  Dolor  Tripp  hung  upon  her  sister's  neck  and 
kissed  her,  and  then  we  all  went  to  make  the  an 
nouncement  to  Alwilda. 

We  found  the  elder  sister  in  the  dining-room  paint 
ing  a  picture  upon  the  wall.  She  was  at  work  upon  a 
small  blue  house,  surrounded  by  flowers  and  shrub 
beries  of  the  brightest  and  gayest  colors.  Birds  with 
brilliant  plumage  were  flying  through  the  air;  there 
was  a  sunset  glow  in  the  sky ;  and  a  young  woman 
with  a  red  shawl  and  a  yellow  petticoat  was  playing 
a  harp  in  the  foreground. 

Dolor  Tripp  was  so  struck  by  this  work  of  art  that 
she  was  obliged  to  satisfy  her  curiosity  about  it  before 
stating  the  object  of  her  visit. 

"What  in  the  world  is  that,  Alwilda?"  she  exclaimed. 


THE    MERRY  CHANTER.  161 

"-That,"  said  the  artist,  stepping  back  from  the 
wall,  but  taking  no  notice  of  the  presence  of  our  party, 
"  is  a  home  in  the  midst  of  all  sorts  of  things  that  are 
joyful  to  look  at  or  to  listen  to  or  to  smell ;  but,  in 
spite  of  all  that,  the  person  that  lives  in  the  house  is 
blue,  and  everything  in  it  is  blue,  and  the  very  house 
itself  is  blue." 

"  Do  you  live  in  that  house  ? v  asked  her  sister. 

"  At  present  I  do,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Well,  I  am  come  to  make  your  house  a  livelier 
color,"  said  Dolor  Tripp.  "  Alwilda,  this  is  Lord 
Crabstairs." 

The  tall  woman  turned  the  front  of  her  black-and- 
white  sunbonnet  upon  his  lordship.  "  What  does  he 
want,"  she  said  ;  "  some  more  chickens  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Dolor  Tripp  j  "  he  wants  me." 

Alwilda  looked  steadfastly  at  the  couple,  now  hold 
ing  each  other  by  the  hand. 

"  A  lord  ?  "  she  said. 

u  Yes,"  said  her  sister  j  "really  and  truly  an  Eng 
lish  lord." 

"  You  are  quite  sure,"  asked  Alwilda,  "  that  he  is  n't 
a  German  count  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not,"  replied  her  sister,  hotly. 

"  Or  a  Spanish  duke  ? "  asked  Alwilda. 

"  Ridiculous  ! »  said  Dolor.     "  How  could  he  be  ?  » 

"  Or  a  Highland  chief,  or  an  African  king  ? "  asked 
the  other. 

And  at  this  we  all  laughed. 

"  Well,"  said  Alwilda,  "  they  are  just  as  likely  to 
say  they  are  one  of  these  things  as  another,  and  I 
don't  suppose  it  makes  much  difference  which  it  is. 


162  THE    MEEEY    CHANTER. 

But  if  you  two  are  really  going  to  be  married  there  is 
one  thing  I  want  to  ask  you.  When  you  set  up  house 
keeping,  do  you  intend  to  have  one  single  bedstead, 
and  no  more,  in  your  spare  room  ? " 

u  What  in  the  world  do  you  mean  by  that  ? "  cried 
her  sister. 

"I  mean,"  said  the  other,  "that  I  want  to  know, 
when  I  come  to  see  you,  if  1 'm  to  have  the  spare  room 
all  to  myself,  or  if  there  ?s  to  be  somebody  else  there 
at  the  same  time  with  me.  If  she  's  to  be  there," 
motioning  out  of  doors,  "  at  the  same  time  that  I  am, 
then  I  don't  want  to  go,  and  I  don't  want  to  have  any 
thing  to  do  with  your  marrying,  or  your  housekeep 
ing.  But  if  I  'm  to  have  the  room  to  myself,  then  I 
suppose  there  ?s  nothing  more  to  be  said." 

"  You  shall  have  it,"  cried  Lord  Crabstairs.  "  I 
shall  have  a  bedstead  built,  in  which  there  shall  not 
be  room  for  two  fishing-rods." 

"  Then,  Alwilda,"  cried  Dolor  Tripp,  "  you  approve 
of  our  marriage  ?  " 

"  It 's  better  than  drowning,"  said  her  sister.  "And 
taking  it  all  in  all,"  she  continued,  after  a  little  reflec 
tion,  "I'm  rather  glad  you  wanted  to  marry  a 
foreigner.  Americans  are  too  uppish ;  but  when  you 
get  hold  of  a  man  that  is  accustomed  to  being  down 
trodden,  it 's  easy  to  keep  him  so." 

At  this  Lord  Crabstairs  roared  with  laughter  till 
the  ceiling  echoed,  and  we  all  joined  in. 

Alwilda  did  not  smile,  but  looked  from  one  to  the 
other,  and  when  the  laughter  had  ceased  she  asked 
Griscom  Brothers  how  much  she  owed  him  for  bread. 

The  merry  baker  declared  he   did  not  carry  his 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  163 

account  with  him,  and  then  Lord  Crabstairs  stepped 
forward  and  spoke. 

"I  wish  you  to  understand,  madam/7  he  said  to 
Alwilda,  "that  your  sister  is  not  marrying  a  rich 
lord.  My  income  is  a  very  small  one,  and  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  go  into  some  work  or  other  to  support 
myself  and  my  wife." 

"  Oh,  money  does  n't  matter,"  said  Alwilda,  turning 
towards  her  picture.  "  Dolor  has  money." 

"  I  'd  like  to  know  where,"  exclaimed  her  youngest 
sister. 

"  In  the  bank,"  said  Alwilda ;  "  gathering  interest." 

"  And  you  never  told  me ! "  cried  Dolor  Tripp, 
excitedly. 

"Why  should  I?"  answered  Alwilda.  "What  call 
had  you  for  money  ?  When  you  should  come  of  age 
you  were  to  have  it,  or  when  you  should  marry  you 
were  to  have  it.  Now  you  and  your  African  king  will 
have  it." 

The  statement  that  Dolor  Tripp  was  possessed  of 
a  fortune,  though  probably  a  small  one,  created  a 
profound  sensation  among  us,  and  our  congratula 
tions  were  warm  and  sincere.  We  were  about  to 
depart  when  Doris  addressed  Alwilda. 

"  I  would  like  very  much  to  know,"  she  said, 
"whether  or  not  you  now  intend  to  alter  the  color 
of  the  house  in  your  picture!" 

"  Well,"  said  Alwilda,  meditatively,  "  I  think  I  shall 
paint  the  roof  red,  but  I  shall  wait  to  see  how  things 
turn  out  before  I  change  the  color  of  the  rest  of  the 
house." 

u  I  tell  you  what  it  is,"  said  Griscom  Brothers,  when 


164  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

we  were  outside,  and  he  and  Lord  Crabstairs  were 
starting  for  the  village,  "  there  will  soon  be  an  end  to 
them  two  sisters  keeping  mum  to  each  other.  There  's 
nothing  on  earth  could  keep  them  from  talking  about 
Dolor's  getting  married." 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  we  reached  the 
Merry  Chanter,  andour  supper  was  much  less  lively  than 
when  Dolor  Tripp  and  Lord  Crabstairs  were  with  us. 

"I  had  begun  to  feel  satisfied  to  wait  here,"  said 
Doris,  when  we  had  gone  on  deck ;  "  but  now  I  am 
sure  I  shall  feel  lonely,  and  I  think  we  must  ask  the 
captains  to  do  their  very  best  to  leave  the  bay  and 
start  for  Boston,  even  if  the  tide  and  wind  do  not 
exactly  suit." 

"  Yes,"  said  I;  "we  ?11  talk  to  them  in  the  morning." 

"  What  do  you  think  about  it?  "she  said  to  the  butcher. 

"  Well,"  he  answered,  "  I  don't  know  that  it  's  my 
place  to  give  advice." 

"  You  're  too  modest,"  said  Doris. 

Shortly  after  this  the  butcher  took  the  opportunity 
to  speak  to  me  privately. 

"  If  I  were  to  marry  that  young  woman  who  's  left 
us,"  said  he,  "  and  she  was  on  board  this  ship,  and 
worrying  and  hankering  to  start  for  Boston,  it  strikes 
me  I  would  tell  her  all  about  the  sand  bank  and  the 
barnacles  and  the  seventy  cart-loads  of  paving  stones 
in  the  hold." 

I  looked  at  him  severely.  "  But  you  are  not  mar 
ried  to  her,"  I  said ;  u  and  not  being  married,  you  do 
not  know  what  a  married  person  should  say  to  the 
person  to  whom  he  is  married." 

To  this  the  butcher  made  no  reply. 


XVIII 

THE  CAPTAINS  SPEAK 

HE  next  morning  Doris   spoke  her 
mind  to  the  captains. 

"  We   must    do    something/7  she 
said.     "  If  we  can't  do  one  thing,  let 
us  do  another.     We  must  set  sail  for 
Boston  without  delay." 
"  Madam/'  said  Captain  Garnish,    "  Dolor  Tripp's 
trunk  is  still  on  board,  and  no  matter  what  happens, 
we  cannot  sail  until  she  sends  for  that." 
Doris  stamped  her  foot  impatiently. 
"  What  a  thing  to  wait  for ! "  she  said. 
Half  an  hour  afterwards  a  man  with  a  cart  ap 
peared  on  the  shore,  and  hailing  the  ship,  he  shouted 
lustily  that  he  had  come  for  a  trunk.     Two  of  the 
captains  took  the  trunk  to  him  in  the  boat,  and  when 
they  returned  we  noticed  that  each  of  them  heaved  a 
little  sigh. 

"  Now  the  last  link  is  broken,"  remarked  Doris. 
"  There  are  some  links,"  said  the  butcher,  "  that  are 
mighty  hard  to  break." 

Doris  looked  at  him  compassionately.    She  thought 
he  referred  to  the  link  between  himself  and  Dolor 

165 


16(3  THE    MERRY    CHAXTEK. 

Tripp,  but  I  knew  that  he  meant  the  link  between 
the  bottom  of  the  Merry  Chanter  and  the  sand  bank. 

It  was  now  plain  to  me  that  the  captains  felt  that 
matters  had  come  to  a  crisis,  and  that  they  must 
either  do  something  or  say  something.  For  an  hour 
they  held  a  conference  in  the  forecastle,  and  then 
they  came  aft  in  a  body. 

Captain  Timon,  being  the  oldest,  spoke  first. 

"  We  captains,"  said  he,  "  have  been  considerin'  a 
lot  about  this  ship,  an7  as  the  owners,  an'  perhaps 
the  passengers  that  are  left,  may  be  gettin7  a  little 
worried  at  the  longishness  of  our  v'yage  to  Boston, 
we  feel  —  an'  it  's  no  more  than  right  to  let  'em  know 
it  —  that  sailin'  to  Boston  in  this  vessel  is  n't  what  we 
call  plain  sailin'.  This  is  an  old  vessel,  an'  she  's 
been  lyin'  in  the  dock  so  long  that  her  hull  is  a  good 
deal  more  barnacle  than  it  is  timber.  Now  it 's  pretty 
nigh  impossible  to  sail  a  ship  when  her  hull  is  more 
than  half  barnacles.  Of  course  most  of  the  barnacles 
could  be  scraped  off  at  low  tide,  but  if  we  did  that 
we  'd  open  the  seams  of  the  old  schooner,  an'  she  'd 
leak  like  a  flour-sieve." 

"  Why  did  n't  you  tell  us  this  before  ?  "  cried  Doris, 
indignantly. 

"  Well,"  said  Captain  Timon,  slowly,  "  you  was  the 
owners,  an'  you  wanted  to  go  to  Boston,  an'  we  would 
have  sailed  you  there  if  we  could  have  done  it." 

"  And  there 's  another  thing,"  said  Captain  Garnish. 
"  Them  pavin'  stones  in  the  hold  is  too  heavy  for  this 
vessel  j  they  sink  her  too  deep.  Of  course  we  could 
go  to  work  and  throw  them  out,  but  I  've  followed  the 
sea  pretty  nigh  all  my  life,  and  I  know  that  it  would  n't 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER.  167 

be  safe  to  take  this  schooner  outside  the  bay  with  a 
pound  less  ballast  in  her  than  she  's  got  in  her  now.'7 

"  This  should  certainly  have  been  told  to  us,"  said 
Doris,  very  sternly. 

"  There  's  another  p'int,"  said  Captain  Teel,  "  that 
might  be  overlooked  by  people  that  ain't  sailors.  This 
ship  is  short-handed.  Of  course  there  's  enough  of  us 
aboard  to  sail  her  in  fair  weather,  and  when  we 
cleared  for  Boston  we  thought  that  the  spell  of  fine 
weather  we  was  then  havin'  would  more  than  likely 
last  to  the  end  of  the  Vyage.  But  there 's  no  knowin' 
what  sort  of  weather  we  are  likely  to  have  now,  and 
if  we  was  to  be  beatin'  up  the  coast  in  a  heavy  gale, 
and  if  one  of  us  was  to  be  at  the  wheel,  and  another 
on  the  lookout,  and  another  castiu'  the  lead,  and 
another  battenin'  down  the  forward  hatches,  it  stands 
to  reason  that  there  would  n't  be  nobody  to  take  in 
the  topsels." 

Doris  was  flushed  with  anger,  and  I  was  on  the 
point  of  bursting  out  into  uncontrollable  vituperation, 
when  Captain  Cyrus,  with  a  smiling  face  and  pleasant 
voice,  spoke  up. 

"  What  we  cap'ns  want  to  do,"  said  he,  "  is  to  be 
fair  all  'round.  We  want  to  be  fair  to  you,  and  fair 
to  ourselves.  Now  here  ?s  Cap'n  Timon,  Cap'n  Gar 
nish,  and  Cap'n  Teel,  that  7s  all  got  houses  of  their 
own,  which  they  Ve  let  furnished  by  the  month  to 
summer  visitors.  Now  if  we  had  sailed  straight  from 
Mooseley  to  Boston  we  ?d  have  been  there  and  back 
before  the  month  was  out  and  these  three  cap'ns  could 
have  been  on  hand  to  collect  the  advance  rent  for 
another  month,  either  from  them  tenants  or  some 


168  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

others.  But  as  things  is,  and  is  likely  to  be,  it  don't 
stand  to  reason  that  we  can  get  to  Boston  and  back 
before  the  end  of  the  month.  Now  I  am  not  speakin' 
for  myself,  but  for  my  mates.  I  've  got  a  house  and 
it  's  furnished,  but  I  can't  let  it,  for  there  is  no  knowin' 
what  time  Mrs.  Bodship  might  want  to  come  there, 
and  it  would  n't  do  for  her  to  find  a  tenant  in  it.  So 
you  see  it  7s  not  my  interests  I  'm  speakin'  for." 

Doris  could  not  say  a  word,  but  my  anger  broke 
forth. 

"  You  miserable,  old,  salt-pickled  fishermen  ! "  said 
I,  "  why  don't  you  speak  the  truth  and  be  done  with 
it  ?  You  know  that  you  have  run  our  vessel  aground 
and  you  can't  get  her  off.  I  could  have  sailed  her 
better  myself." 

Captain  Garnish  advanced  with  flashing  eye  and 
clenched  fist. 

"  Young  man,"  he  roared,  "  if  you  had  n't  your 
wife  with  you,  I  'd  show  you  the  difference  between  a 
pickled  fisherman  and  a  live  clam  ! " 

The  butcher  now  stepped  boldly  between  the  cap 
tains  and  the  owners. 

"  No  more  of  this,"  he  said.  "  I  am  only  a  passen 
ger,  but  so  long  as  I  am  on  this  ship  there  '11  be  no 
fighting  on  board  of  her." 

The  butcher  owned  a  cleaver,  and  his  words  were 
respected. 

Doris  rushed  down  to  her  cabin,  where  she  burst 
out  crying,  and  I  followed  her.  We  had  rather  a 
doleful  time  together ;  but  after  a  while  we  heard  the 
cheery  voice  of  Griscom  Brothers,  who  had  come  on 
board  for  his  daily  visit,  and  we  went  on  deck.  After 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  169 

his  -usual  hearty  salutations  to  us  all,  the  baker 
addressed  the  butcher : 

"  Lord  Crabstairs  sent  a  message  to  you.  He  said 
he  has  n't  no  use  for  chickens  now.  He  told  me  to 
tell  you  that,  expecting  to  spend  most  of  his  spare 
time  till  he  gets  married  in  going  backward  and  for 
ward  between  the  village  and  the  Tripps'  house,  he 
makes  a  present  of  all  his  poultry  to  you,  knowing 
that  you  will  take  good  care  of  it." 

"  If  Lord  Crabstairs  thinks,7'  said  the  butcher,  "  that 
what  has  happened  is  going  to  be  covered  up  by  nine 
full-grown  hens  and  a  year-old  cockerel,  he  has  mis 
taken  his  man ;  but  if  he  just  wants  to  give  them  to 
me  as  plain  fowls  from  one  man  to  another,  I  '11  take 
them  and  send  him  thanks." 

u  That 's  what  he  meant,"  cried  Griscom  Brothers. 
"  He  as  much  as  said  so  to  me  j  and  so  you  can  just 
pitch  in  and  feed  them,  for  they  are  yours." 

Looking  about  him  as  he  was  speaking,  Griscom 
Brothers  perceived  that  something  had  happened,  and 
that  all  was  not  right  with  us.  He  was  about  to 
speak,  when  I  led  him  aside  and  explained  the  situa 
tion. 

"  That  's  a  pity ;  that  >s  a  great  pity,"  said  he, 
shaking  his  head.  "It  's  a  bad  thing  to  have  ill- 
feeling  break  out  among  people  who  are  voyaging 
together  on  a  ship,  but  we  must  see  what  can  be 
done  to  straighten  out  matters." 

Before,  however,  he  could  offer  any  suggestions  to 
this  end,  the  butcher  came  aft  with  a  message  from 
the  four  captains.  I  was  not  on  very  good  terms 

with  the  butcher,  but  he  spoke  pleasantly  to  me  as 
15 


170  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

well  as  to  Doris.  He  informed  us  that  the  captains  had 
decided  that,  on  the  morrow,  they  would  return  to 
their  homes  by  land  in  order  to  attend  to  their 
private  affairs.  If,  after  the  end  of  the  month,  it 
should  be  considered  advisable  not  to  endeavor  to 
take  the  Merry  Chanter  to  Boston,  they  would  be 
content  with  their  share  of  the  money  paid  by  the 
passengers,  and  would  relinquish  all  further  claims 
upon  the  schooner. 

"  In  that  case,"  said  Doris,  "  we  must  go  on  shore, 
also." 

"It  is  base  conduct  on  the  part  of  the  captains," 
said  I.  "  I  do  not  object  to  go  on  shore,  but  I  object 
to  being  forced  to  do  so  by  their  desertion  of  our 
ship." 

"  The  ship  shall  not  be  deserted,"  said  the  butcher. 
"  I  shall  remain  on  board.  I  have  all  my  belongings 
here,  and  I  am  very  comfortable.  I  have  my  poultry 
to  take  care  of  and  plenty  of  things  to  do ;  and  as  I 
can  go  on  shore  in  the  boat  whenever  I  feel  like  it, 
I  am  not  afraid  to  be  here  without  sailors,  for  I  don't 
believe  any  storm  that  could  come  into  this  bay  could 
move  the  Merry  Chanter.  However,  I  shall  keep  the 
anchor  out,  for  the  sake  of  appearances.  It  does  n't 
mean  any  more  than  i  esquire '  to  a  man's  name,  but 
it  looks  well.  Now  how  does  that  plan  strike  the 
owners  ? " 

Doris  declared  that  if  the  butcher  really  desired  to 
stay  on  the  ship,  we  should  be  very  glad  to  have  him 
do  so. 

"In  that  case,"  said  Grriscom  Brothers,  "if  you 
want  Johnny  to  stay  with  you,  he  can  do  it ;  but  if 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  171 

you  don't  want  him,  I  '11  take  him  home  and  set  him 
to  baking.  It  is  time  he  was  in  some  solid  business. 
And  as  for  you,  Madam,  and  your  husband,  if  you 
want  to  stay  around  in  this  neighborhood,  there  is 
the  Tripp  house.  There  's  plenty  of  room  in  it,  and 
I  believe  Alwilda  and  Lizeth  would  like  you  to  board 
with  them  for  a  while." 

"  That  would  suit  me  exactly,"  said  Doris.  "  I  wish 
to  be  somewhere  where  I  can  see  the  Merry  Chanter 
whenever  I  choose  to  go  and  look  at  it." 

"  Which  is  quite  natural/'  said  Griscom  Brothers  j 
"and  we  had  better  call  this  business  settled.  And 
now  I  '11  go  ashore,  and  engineer  the  matter  with 
Alwilda  and  Lizeth.  I  know  I  can  do  it." 

The  next  day  the  four  captains,  being  ready  to  go 
before  we  were,  came  in  a  body  to  take  leave  of  us. 

"  We  don't  want  to  go  away,"  said  Captain  Timon, 
speaking  for  the  others,  "  without  sayin'  to  you  both 
that  we  part,  on  our  side,  quite  friendly.  Bygones  is 
bygones.  If  we  could  have  got  you  to  Boston,  we 
would  have  got  you  there,  an'  been  glad  of  it.  But 
we  could  n't  and  we  did  n't,  so  there  's  an  end  of  it. 
If  you  ever  get  your  ship  floated,  an'  towed  into 
fresh  water  where  her  barnacles  would  drop  off,  an7 
have  her  fitted  up  so  that  she  won't  need  so  many 
pavin'  stones,  we  might  be  willin'  to  ship  on  her 
again,  an'  see  what  we  could  do  to  get  her  to  Boston 
for  you.  But  till  that  time  comes,  we  bid  you  good- 
by.  An'  here  's  our  hands,  wishin'  you  good  luck 
an'  lots  of  it." 

Doris  shed  some  tears  as  she  shook  hands  with  the 
four  old  mariners;  and  although  my  sense  of  per- 


172  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

sonal  dignity  demanded  that  I  should  not  take  their 
hands,  I  did  so  for  fear  of  further  annoying  my 
wife. 

In  the  afternoon  Doris  and  I  also  left  our  ship, — 
temporarily,  as  my  wife  earnestly  declared,  —  and 
repaired  to  the  house  of  the  Tripp  sisters,  who 
were  perfectly  willing  to  accommodate  us  until  we 
determined  what  it  should  be  best  for  us  to  do. 

The  schoolmaster  went  home  with  his  father,  who 
vowed  to  protect  him  against  Mrs.  Bodship  at  all 
hazards  j  and  the  butcher  was  left  alone  on  board  the 
Merry  Chanter. 


XIX 


HORRIBLE   SEA-WEEDS   FLAP  OVER    HER 


UR  days  with  the  Tripp  family 
passed  pleasantly  enough.  I  went 
fishing,  and  sometimes  Doris  went 
with  me.  Doris  went  sketching, 
and  sometimes  I  went  with  her. 
Dolor  Tripp  was  in  high  spirits,  and 
her  sister  Lizeth  developed  quite  a  pleasant  humor. 
Lord  Crabstairs  spent  every  day,  and  the  greater  part 
of  every  evening,  in  the  company  of  his  beloved  one ; 
and,  consequently,  he  was  a  good  deal  in  our  com 
pany,  and  seldom  failed  to  make  things  lively  in  one 
way  or  another. 

G-ri scorn  Brothers  was  a  regular  visitor.  He  had 
not  yet  arranged  to  leave  his  quarters  over  the  old 
kitchen,  and  generally  spent  the  nights  there,  giving 
up  his  room  in  the  village  to  his  son.  He  did  not 
altogether  relinquish  his  line  of  business  as  a  ghost, 
especially  when  he  had  reason  to  believe  that  on 
account  of  moonlight  walks  or  late  departure  of  a 
visitor  some  outer  door  had  been  left  unfastened.  In 
his  wanderings  about  the  house  he  frequently  depos 
ited  some  delicacy  in  his  line  at  the  door  of  the  room 
occupied  by  Doris  and  myself,  and  I  am  sure  that  in 

173 


174  THE    MEREY    CHANTER. 

this  regard  Dolor  Tripp  was  not  forgotten.  The 
butcher  could  be  depended  upon  for  a  visit  at  least 
every  second  day.  Occasionally  the  schoolmaster 
came,  but  he  was  a  quiet  man  who  did  not  care  to  do 
much  walking  about  the  country. 

In  about  ten  days  after  our  arrival,  Dolor  Tripp 
and  Lord  Crabstairs  were  married.  A  clergyman 
came  over  from  the  village,  and  we  had  a  very  pleas 
ant  little  wedding,  which  was  made  more  cheerful  by 
Alwilda,  who,  as  soon  as  the  ceremony  was  com 
pleted,  proceeded  at  once  to  the  dining-room,  and 
changed  the  color  of  the  blue  house  in  her  latest  pic 
ture  to  bright  yellow  with  scarlet  window-frames. 
After  a  banquet,  in  which  the  talent  of  Griscom 
Brothers  shone  to  marvelous  effect,  the  happy  couple 
proceeded  on  their  wedding  trip. 

About  a  week  after  the  wedding,  Doris  and  I  were 
down  at  the  edge  of  Shankashank  Bay.  Across  the 
stretch  of  water  that  separated  the  Merry  Chanter 
from  the  shore  Doris  and  the  butcher  were  holding  a 
high-pitched  conversation,  when  this  voice-destroying 
dialogue  was  cut  short  by  the  arrival  of  a  boy  in  a 
funny  little  cart  resembling  a  wooden  wash-basin 
on  wheels,  who  brought  us  a  telegram  from  the  near 
est  station.  The  message  was  from  Montreal,  at 
which  place  we  knew  the  newly  married  couple  in 
tended  making  a  considerable  stay.  It  was  from  the 
young  bride,  and  it  read  thus  : 

"I  am  shipwrecked,  and  lying  drowned  upon  the 
shore,  cold  and  dead.  Horrible  sea-weeds  flap  over 
me.  He  will  write. —  DOLOR." 

With  pallid  cheeks  Doris  and  I  read  this  again  and 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER.  175 

again,  but  what  it  meant  we  could  not  divine.  We 
knew  it  meant  misery  of  some  sort,  but  what  sort  of 
misery  neither  of  us  could  imagine.  At  last,  not 
knowing  what  to  do,  we  determined  to  take  the 
butcher  into  our  confidence,  and  hailed  him  to  come 
ashore.  In  a  few  minutes  his  boat  grated  upon  the  sand. 

He  read  the  telegram,  and  looked  as  black  as  night. 
Doris  whispered  in  my  ear :  "  He  must  not  go  back 
after  his  cleaver.  We  must  not  let  him  do  that ! "  In 
a  few  moments,  however,  the  storm-clouds  on  the  face 
of  the  butcher  began  to  disappear. 

"  At  first  I  thought,"  he  said,  "  that  that  man  had  de 
ceived  her;  that  he's  not  a  lord.  But,  considering 
that  he  did  n't  want  to  be  a  lord,  and  put  on  no  airs 
about  it,  I  don't  believe  the  trouble  is  there." 

"  But  where  is  it  ? "  said  I. 

The  butcher  shook  his  head. 

"It's  no  use  going  to  them,"  he  said,  "until  we 
know  what  has  happened.  We  must  wait  for  the  letter." 

"  Do  you  think  of  going  to  them  ?  "  asked  Doris  in 
surprise. 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  butcher  ;  "  if  I  am  needed." 

That  was  a  doleful  day  for  us.  We  felt  obliged  to 
tell  the  Tripp  sisters  of  the  telegram,  and  the  effect  of 
the  mysterious  message  was  to  throw  Lizeth  into  a  fit 
of  grumbling  that  Dolor  should  be  so  foolish  as  to  stir 
them  up  with  a  telegram  like  that  when  a  letter  was 
on  its  way,  and  to  send  Alwilda  into  the  dining-room, 
where  she  began  work  upon  an  enormous  tombstone, 
large  enough  to  contain  the  names  of  all  her  family. 

The  butcher  went  to  the  village,  where  he  said  he 
would  stay  until  a  letter  came,  and  then  bring  it  to 


176  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

us  forthwith.  G-riscom  Brothers  was  taken  into 
council,  and  he  declared  it  was  his  opinion  that  it  was 
clams.  Dolor  would  be  sure  to  call  for  them,  and  as 
the  Canadians  were  not  a  clam-eating  people  they 
probably  did  not  know  how  to  cook  them.  Nothing 
would  be  more  likely  to  give  rise  to  a  telegram  like 
that  than  a  quantity  of  badly  cooked  clams.  He  felt 
keenly  on  this  point,  for  he  knew  how  clams  should  be 
cooked  so  that  they  would  hurt  no  one,  and  had  he  been 
in  Montreal  the  case  might  have  been  quite  different. 

The  next  day  at  noon,  the  butcher,  who  had  stayed 
in  the  village  all  night,  leaving  his  poultry,  the  sand 
piper,  and  the  Merry  Chanter  to  take  care  of  them 
selves,  brought  a  letter  from  Lord  Crabstairs. 

It  was  addressed  to  me,  and  read  as  follows  : 


MY  DEAR  SIR  :  I  am  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  write  to  you  that 
I  have  been  knocked  out  of  time  worse  than  any  man  ever  was 
since  the  beginning  of  the  world.  My  wife  sent  you  a  telegram 
this  morning,  but  she  tells  me  she  did  not  go  into  details,  so  I 
shall  write  you  how  matters  stand,  although  it  is  not  of  the 
least  use,  except  to  make  our  friends  unhappy.  We  stopped  at 
Boston,  because  Dolor  said  that  as  she  had  originally  started  to 
go  there  she  would  like  to  do  it,  and  she  did  me  the  honor  to  de 
clare  that  she  traveled  with  as  merry  a  chanter  as  if  she  had 
sailed  in  your  ship.  Then  she  wanted  to  go  to  Montreal,  and 
we  went  there  ;  for  I  was  not  in  the  least  afraid  to  travel  in 
Canada,  where  I  knew  no  one,  and  where  I  should  register  no 
name  but  that  of  George  Garley,  which  I  bore  before  I  came  into 
the  title.  Well,  we  saw  the  sights  of  Montreal,  and  they  did  us 
no  harm.  But  one  of  the  Cabinet  Ministers  happened  to  be  in 
town,  and  they  gave  him  a  public  reception,  and  of  course  Dolor 
wanted  to  go  to  that,  and  we  went.  A  lot  of  heavy  swells  went 
in  ahead  of  us,  each  with  some  sort  of  a  title  or  other,  and  I 
noticed  as  Dolor  heard  these  names  called  out  she  got  more  and 
more  uneasy,  and  just  as  we  were  coming  up  to  the  scratch  she 


THE    MERRY  CHANTER.  177 

took  out  of  my  hand  a  card  on  which  I  had  written  "  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Garley,"  and  herself  gave  to  the  usher  one  of  the  cards 
which  we  had  had  printed  for  use  in  the  States  only.  When  we 
were  announced  as  Lord  and  Lady  Crabstairs,  we  created  a  fine 
sensation,  I  assure  you ;  for  nobody  of  that  rank  had  gone  in 
yet,  and  I  dare  say  there  is  no  duchess  in  England  who  can 
carry  herself  in  better  style  and  form  than  my  little  wife  did. 
She  was  as  proud  as  a  gilded  peacock,  and  I  must  say  that  I  was 
a  good  deal  that  way  myself.  I  had  never  had  any  good  of  the 
title,  and  I  was  glad  something  had  come  of  it.  Dolor  was  so 
particularly  tickled  by  the  deferential  manner  in  which  she  was 
treated  that  I  was  ashamed  I  had  ever  thought  of  presenting 
the  card  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Garley.  The  next  morning,  when  I 
went  into  the  reading-room  of  the  hotel,  the  first  man  I  saw  was 
that  infernal  attorney  who  had  brought  me  the  news,  in  front  of 
my  own  house,  of  my  accession  to  the  title  and  the  debts.  It  is  of 
no  use  to  write  much  about  this ;  it  is  too  beastly  miserable 
even  to  think  about.  The  wretched  cad  had  found  out  I  had 
gone  to  America,  and  the  inheritors  of  the  claims  had  sent  him 
over  to  look  me  up.  But  he  had  not  heard  a  bit  about  me  until 
he  saw  in  the  morning  paper  that  Lord  and  Lady  Crabstairs  had 
attended  the  reception  the  evening  before.  He  had  the  papers, 
and  he  nabbed  me  on  the  spot,  and  now  I  go  back  to  England  to 
spend  the  rest  of  my  life  in  a  debtor's  dungeon,  and  to  think 
that  my  poor  dear  did  it  simply  because  she  thought  I  ought  to  be 
as  big  a  swell  as  any  of  them.  I  vow  I  wish  I  had  done  it  myself. 
Well,  it  is  all  up.  Life  is  all  up.  Everything  is  all  up,  so  far  as 
we  are  concerned.  The  whole  world  has  gone  to  the  bad.  What 
is  to  be  done,  I  cannot  say.  In  a  week  I  am  to  sail  for  England, 
but  it  is  impossible  for  Dolor  to  go  with  me.  She  would  not  be 
allowed  to  share  my  dungeon,  and  I  would  not  have  her  do  it. 
Moreover,  I  could  not  endure  to  look  through  a  narrow  slit  in 
the  wall  and  see  her  wandering  about  the  neighborhood  where 
she  did  not  know  one  street  from  another,  and  wasting  to  a 
skeleton  day  by  day.  But  how  I  am  to  go  away  and  leave  her, 
I  know  not.  So  here  we  are  in  blackest  misery.  By  the  eleven 
devils  who  continually  howl  around  Judas  Iscariot,  I  wish  that 
the  first  Lord  Crabstairs  had  been  born  dead  ! 

Yours  wretchedly,  CRABSTAIRS. 

For  the  sake  of  Dolor,  I  stick  to  the  title. 


178  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

This  letter  was  read  aloud  in  the  presence  of  the 
two  Tripp  sisters,  Doris,  and  the  butcher.  When 
it  was  finished  Alwilda  and  Lizeth  arose  without  a 
word,  put  on  their  black-and-white  striped  sunbon- 
nets,  and  went  out  —  one  to  the  dining-room,  and 
the  other  to  the  poultry-yard.  Doris  and  I  gazed  at 
each  other  in  silence,  but  the  butcher  stood  up  with 
flashing  eyes  and  heaving  breast. 

"  Who  is  to  go  to  Montreal  ? "  he  said. 

"  To  Montreal  ? "  I  repeated.  "  There  >s  no  use  in 
any  one  going  there  in  a  case  like  this  5  there  is 
nothing  to  be  done." 

"  If  no  one  else  goes/'  said  the  butcher,  "  I  shall  go." 

"  That  you  shall  not  do,"  said  Doris.  "  It  would  not 
be  suitable  or  proper.  I  am  going." 

She  went,  and  of  course  I  went  with  her. 

WE  found  the  bridal  couple  in  doleful  plight.  Lord 
Crabstairs  was  a  prisoner  in  his  hotel,  awaiting  the 
departure  of  the  steamer  on  which  his  passage  had 
been  taken.  Poor  Dolor  was  plunged  in  blackest 
grief. 

"  Of  course  you  did  not  understand  the  telegram 
I  sent,"  she  sobbed.  "  It  was  n't  half  strong 
enough." 

Her  husband  was  a  brave  fellow,  and  tried  to  put 
the  best  face  on  the  matter,  especially  when  his  wife 
was  present. 

"I  dare  say  I  shall  have  a  bit  of  a  jolly  time  now 
and  then,"  he  said,  "and  that  things  will  not  be  quite 
as  bad  as  we  have  been  thinking  they  would  be.  I 
never  speak  to  that  wretched  cad  of  an  attorney 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  179 

about  anything,  but  I  have  heard  that  they  turn 
debtors  into  a  court  now  and  then  to  take  the  fresh 
air,  and  perhaps  they  '11  let  me  keep  chickens.  That 
would  be  no  end  jolly !  And,  more  than  that/7  he 
exclaimed,  his  whole  face  lighting  up,  "who  knows  but 
that  they  '11  let  me  have  a  cow  ?  I  know  I  could  keep 
a  cow  in  a  stone  court-yard,  and  if  they  will  let  me 
serve  milk  and  eggs  to  the  fellows  in  the  other  dun 
geons  I  would  have  lots  to  do,  especially  when  it  came 
to  the  collecting  of  the  monthly  bills." 

This  kind  of  talk  may  have  cheered  the  poor  man 
a  little,  but  it  did  not  cheer  us.  Our  principal  concern 
was  for  Dolor.  We  had  read  stories  of  the  Fleet  and 
the  Marsh alsea,  and  supposed  it  likely  that  Lord 
Crabstairs  might  in  time  learn  to  endure  life  in  a 
debtors'  prison  ;  but  Dolor  would  be  an  absolute 
stranger  in  England,  and  she  could  not  be  allowed  to 
go  there.  So  there  was  nothing  for  her  to  do  but  to 
return  to  her  home. 

We  spoke  privately  to  Lord  Crabstairs  on  this  sub 
ject,  and  he  agreed  with  us. 

"  Of  course  that 's  the  place  for  her,"  he  said ;  "and 
I  would  rather  think  of  her  there  than  anywhere  else, 
but  there  is  one  thing  about  it  that  worries  me.  I 
don't  want  her  to  go  there  if  that  butcher  intends  to 
live  in  the  neighborhood.  Not  that  I  have  anything 
to  say  against  the  butcher.  He  is  an  honest  man  and 
tossed  up  fair  every  time,  and  if  at  the  last  tossing  two 
tails  had  come  up  instead  of  two  heads,  perhaps  he 
might  have  had  her.  But  that 's  neither  here  nor 
there.  Heads  turned  up  and  there  was  an  end  to 
him." 


180  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

Neither  of  us  answered  this  remark.  Doris  looked 
as  if  she  had  something  to  say,  but  she  did  not  say  it. 

"  I  will  write  to  him/'  exclaimed  Lord  Crabstairs, 
"and  put  the  matter  fair  and  square  before  him. 
Then  he  will  surely  see  it  as  I  do." 

"  Anything  like  that,"  said  Doris,  somewhat  severely, 
"  you  must  certainly  attend  to  yourself." 

Lord  Crabstairs  wrote  to  the  butcher  and  put  the 
matter  fair  and  square  before  him.  On  the  next  day 
but  one  this  answer  came  by  telegraph  : 

"  If  her  coming  home  depends  on  my  going,  I  go." 

"  There  is  a  man  for  you  ! "  exclaimed  Doris,  with 
a  slight  flush  on  her  face  as  she  read  this  telegram. 

I  made  no  reply.  The  butcher  was  well  enough  in 
his  way,  but  he  was  not  a  man  for  me. 

Dolor  knew  nothing  of  the  letter  or  the  telegram. 
That  evening  she  said  to  us  : 

"  I  have  been  thinking  about  going  home.  It  will 
be  perfectly  dreadful  with  my  husband  snatched 
away  to  a  living  death,  and  every  hope  in  life  shat 
tered  and  shivered,  but  in  some  ways  it  may  be  better 
than  it  used  to  be.  I  shall  have  more  company.  I 
dare  say  the  Merry  Chanter  will  not  sail  for  ever  so 
long,  and  I  shall  often  see  you  two,  and  perhaps  the 
captains,  to  say  nothing  of  Griscom  Brothers  and  the 
schoolmaster.  The  butcher,  too,  is  a  very  pleasant 
man,  and  probably  he  will  always  live  in  the  neighbor 
hood." 

At  this  Lord  Crabstairs  leaned  his  head  upon  his 
hands  and  gave  a  groan.  Dolor  stepped  quickly  to 
his  side  and  put  her  arm  about  his  neck. 

"  Poor  fellow  ! "  she  said.     "  I  wish  I  better  knew 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  181 

how  to  -help  you  to  bear  your  misery  !  And  to  think," 
she  suddenly  exclaimed,  standing  erect,  with  her  eyes 
sparkling  with  indignation,  "the  people  who  really 
owed  these  horrible  debts,  as  well  as  the  people  to 
whom  the  debts  were  owed,  have  been  dead  so  long 
that  they  have  even  ceased  to  be  corpses ! " 


16 


XX 


THE  COLLECTOR  OF  ANTIQUES 


ORIS  and  I  agreed  to  stay  in  Mon 
treal  until  the  very  last  minute,  and 
when  the  steamer  should  be  entirely 
out  of  sight  we  would  return  home, 
taking  Dolor  with  us.  To  Lord 
Crabstairs  we  privately  promised 
that  before  starting  we  would  telegraph  to  the 
butcher. 

Saturday  was  the  steamer's  sailing  day,  and  on 
Friday  morning  the  attorney  came  to  Lord  Crab- 
stairs' s  room,  where  Doris  and  I  were  paying  an  early 
visit  to  the  unfortunate  couple.  Lord  Crabstairs  had 
declared  he  would  never  again  speak  a  word  to  this 
attorney,  who  had  dogged  him  across  the  Atlantic. 
But  this  time  he  broke  through  his  rule. 

"  What  do  you  mean,"  he  cried,  "  by  this  imperti 
nence?  Is  it  not  enough  to  have  one  cur  keeping 
guard  outside  the  door  without  another  pushing  him 
self  into  the  room  ?  " 

This  harsh  speech  made  not  the  least  impression 
upon  the  attorney,  who  quietly  remarked :  "  Half  an 
hour  ago  I  received  a  message  by  cable  concerning 
you  which  I  did  not  in  the  least  understand.  But  in 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER.  183 

picking  up  the  morning  paper  I  find  this  dispatch 
from  London,  which  is  a  curious  bit  of  news,  and  may 
interest  you.7'  And  handing  a  newspaper  to  Lord 
Crabstairs  he  stepped  to  one  side. 

Lord  Crabstairs  took  the  paper  and  read  aloud  the 
following  news  item : 

Considerable  interest  has  lately  been  excited  with  regard  to 
the  case  of  Lord  Crabstairs,  who  recently  succeeded,  not  to  the 
estate, — for  there  is  none, —  but  to  the  title  of  this  ancient 
family.  It  is  well  known  that  his  only  inheritance  was  a  vast 
mass  of  debts,  some  of  which  began  to  accumulate  in  the 
seventeenth  century,  and  which  were  increased  and  multiplied 
by  a  long  line  of  ancestors,  so  that  many  years  ago  it  became 
impossible  for  any  descendant  of  the  house  to  pay  them.  In 
consequence  of  this  unfortunate  state  of  affairs  the  new  Lord 
Crabstairs  became  liable  to  arrest  at  the  moment  of  his  coming 
into  the  title,  and  to  be  sent  to  the  debtors'  jail,  where  so  many 
of  his  forefathers  had  passed  their  lives.  The  public  has 
already  been  made  aware  that  this  new  nobleman  evaded  the 
officers  of  the  law  and  fled  to  America,  where,  in  Montreal,  he 
was  recently  arrested  as  an  absconding  debtor.  The  publica 
tion  of  the  facts  in  the  London  papers  attracted  the  attention 
of  an  American  gentleman,  Mr.  Copley  Westbridge,  who  has 
been  for  some  time  in  Europe  expending  a  large  portion  of  his 
great  fortune  in  collecting  material  with  which  to  found  an 
antiquarian  museum  in  New-York.  Mr.  Westbridge  pays  much 
attention  to  antiquities  of  every  kind,  and  the  case  of  Lord 
Crabstairs  interested  him  greatly.  He  obtained  permission  to 
examine  the  vast  mass  of  claims,  bonds,  defeasances,  judg 
ments,  executions,  warrants,  mortgages,  bills,  writs  of  elegit 
and  of  capias  ad  satisfaciendum,  and  legal  papers  of  every 
variety  originating  in  the  reigns,  protectorates,  and  regencies 
of  two  centuries ;  and  all  so  worded  and  drawn  as  to  bear  upon 
the  unfortunate  man  who  happened  to  be  Lord  Crabstairs,  no 
matter  in  what  period  of  time  or  part  of  the  world.  This  mass 
of  ancient  and  curious  documents  appeared  so  valuable  to  Mr. 
Westbridge  that  he  bought  the  whole  of  it  for  his  museum. 


184  THE    MERET   GRANTEE. 

The  descendants  of  the  original  creditors  consented  to  accept 
a  fixed  price  for  the  collective  debts,  and  Mr.  Westbridge 
signed  a  quitclaim,  which  entirely  absolved  Lord  Crabstairs 
and  his  descendants  from  any  connection  with  the  debts  of 
his  forefathers.  By  this  transaction  this  unique  and  highly 
valuable  collection  of  legal  curiosities  goes  to  the  States,  and  a 
British  peer  is  made  a  freeman  on  his  native  soil. 

As  Lord  Crabstairs  read  this  piece  of  news  his 
voice  became  louder  and  louder,  and  I  am  sure  the 
eyes  of  all  of  us  opened  wider  and  wider,  and  that 
our  hearts  beat  faster  and  faster.  Dropping  the 
paper,  Lord  Crabstairs  stepped  towards  the  attorney. 

"  What  is  the  message  you  received  ? "  he  shouted. 

"  It  was  very  short/7  replied  the  attorney ;  "  merely 
these  words:  'No  further  claims  against  your  pris 
oner;  release  him.7  Therefore,  my  lord,  you  are  no 
longer  under  arrest.  Good-morning." 

With  two  shouts  of  wild  ecstasy  Lord  and  Lady 
Crabstairs  rushed  into  each  other's  arms,  and  Doris 
and  I  quietly  withdrew. 

The  gayest,  happiest,  and  most  madly  hilarious 
three  people  in  the  Dominion  of  Canada  that  day 
were  Doris  and  Lord  and  Lady  Crabstairs.  I,  too, 
was  wonderfully  well  pleased,  but  my  pleasure  did 
not  exhibit  itself  in  extravagant  manifestations  such 
as  those  of  my  companions. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ? "  asked  Doris  of  Lord 
Crabstairs  as  we  all  sat  at  luncheon  together.  "  Are 
you  going  back  to  England  ?  Have  you  any  sort  of 
an  ancestral  pile  left  to  you  ? " 

"  I  really  do  not  know,'7  replied  his  lordship.  "  I 
have  never  gone  very  deeply  into  the  beastly  business. 


THE    MERRY   CHANTER.  185 

Whether  there  was  an  entail  or  no  entail,  there  is 
nothing  left,  anyway.  But  if  anything  were  left,  I 
should  have  nothing  to  do  with  a  stick  or  a  stone 
that  belonged  to  my  ancestors,  for  fear  that  the 
American  antiquarian  had  overlooked  a  paper  or  two, 
and  that  some  sort  of  antiquated  debt  in  geometrical 
progression  still  stuck  to  the  property.  I  own  a  neat 
little  place  in  Bucks,  and  if  everything  has  n't  been 
scattered  to  the  four  winds,  there  is  a  cow  there,  and 
a  lot  of  high-bred  poultry,  two  dogs,  and  a  cat,  and 
some  of  the  prettiest  flower-beds  you  ever  saw  in  your 
life.  Lord  and  Lady  Crabstairs  will  live  there,  and  if 
the  other  lords  of  the  realm  think  that  my  house  is 
too  humble  an  abode  for  a  British  peer  they  can 
smother  their  mortification  until  I  make  money 
enough  to  build  a  better  one.  I  intend  that  the  next 
house  of  the  Crabstairs  shall  date  from  me." 

It  was  decided  that  the  best  thing  for  us  all  to  do 
was  to  return  together  to  the  Tripp  house.  We  wrote 
at  once  to  announce  the  good  news  of  our  coming, 
and  we  were  met  at  the  railroad  station  by  a  little 
crowd  of  friends.  Lizeth  Tripp  was  there,  but  not 
Alwilda,  who  would  not  leave  the  house  unprotected 
even  on  an  occasion  like  this.  The  four  captains 
were  there,  and  Griscom  Brothers,  and  the  school 
master,  and  very  prominent  among  the  others  the 
butcher,  wearing  a  freshly  washed  and  starched  gown, 
and  a  shining  high  silk  hat.  Having  heard  that 
Dolor's  husband  was  coming  back  with  her,  he  did  not 
think  it  necessary  to  leave  the  neighborhood.  Behind 
this  little  group  of  friends  stood  the  entire  population 
of  the  village. 


186  THE    MERRY   CHANTER. 

We  walked  to  the  Tripp  house  in  a  long  procession, 
the  baggage  of  the  bridal  pair  being  gladly  carried 
by  the  four  captains,  the  schoolmaster,  Griscom 
Brothers,  and  the  butcher.  The  villagers  followed  us 
for  a  short  distance  only,  They  all  knew  what  sort 
of  a  woman  Alwilda  Tripp  was.  The  hired  man  had 
come  down  to  the  station,  but  he  had  hurried  back 
ahead  of  us,  and  now  stood  at  the  open  gate  bearing 
a  huge  sunflower,  which  he  presented  to  Lady  Crab- 
stairs. 

"I  don't  believe  there  's  another  person  in  this 
world/'  said  Lizeth,  when  we  had  reached  the  house, 
"  on  whom  that  man  would  have  wasted  nearly  a  gill 
of  chicken  seed." 

We  found  Alwilda  in  the  dining-room,  standing 
before  the  huge  tombstone  she  had  painted  on  the 
wall.  She  quietly  submitted  to  the  embrace  of  her 
sister,  and  very  civilly  returned  the  salutations  of  the, 
rest  of  the  party. 

"  I  am  very  much  puzzled,"  she  then  remarked, 
"  to  know  what  to  do  with  that  tombstone.  I  don't 
want  to  scrape  it  out,  because  I  took  a  great  deal  of 
pains  with  it,  and  yet,  as  things  have  turned  out,  it 
does  n't  seem  to  be  suitable." 

"Who  is  that  sprawling  nigger  at  the  foot  of  the 
stone  with  his  head  in  a  brass  pan  ? "  asked  Lord 
Crabstairs. 

"By  that,"  replied  Alwilda,  "I  intended  to  repre 
sent  the  downfall  of  an  African  king." 

At  this  we  all  laughed  heartily,  and  Lord  Crab- 
stairs  cried : 

"  Well,  whatever  you  do,  madam,  paint  out  the 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  187 

nigger.  He  does  n't  suit  at  all.  And  if  you  want  an 
inscription  for  your  tombstone  I  '11  give  you  one : 
'  Here  lies  two  centuries  of  debt,  and  the  devil  take 
it !  > " 

"  I  might  put  that,"  said  Alwilda,  "  except  the  part 
about  the  devil.  I  can  have  instead  of  it  'now  de 
parted.'  » 

"  I  think  I  can  propose  something  better  than  that," 
cried  Doris.  u  You  can  cut  off  the  top  of  the  grave 
stone  so  as  to  make  it  look  like  the  base  of  a  monu 
ment,  and  on  this  you  can  paint  a  handsome  column 
or  obelisk.  You  can  make  a  flower-bed  of  the  fallen 
African  king,  and  pretty  vines  can  twine  themselves 
about  the  base  of  the  stone.  These,  with  blossoming 
shrubs  and  flowers  on  each  side  and  in  the  background, 
will  make  a  very  cheerful  picture.  Then  on  the  mon 
ument  I  propose  you  paint  these  words :  '  To  the 
memory  of  the  good  ship  Merry  Chanter,  which ' "  — 
She  hesitated  a  few  moments,  and  then  said :  "  I  can 
not  think  of  a  good  sentiment.  Will  not  one  of  you 
help  me  ? " 

Griscom  Brothers  smiled,  and  in  a  moment  said: 

"  Perhaps  this  might  do :  l  To  the  memory  of  the 
good  ship  Merry  Chanter,  which  made  slow  time  but 
fast  friends.7 " 

"  Capital ! "  said  Doris.  And  we  all  agreed  that 
this  would  be  an  exceedingly  appropriate  inscription. 

"  I  ?11  paint  it  in  that  way,"  said  Alwilda.  And  im 
mediately  she  went  to  work  upon  it. 


XXI 


THE    MERRY  CHANTER  LEAVES   SHANKASHANK  BAY 


ORD  and  Lady  Crabstairs  remained 
with  us  at  Dolor's  old  home  for  a 
week  or  more,  and  then  started  on 
a  short  western  tour.  When  this 
continuation  of  their  bridal  trip  was 
completed  they  would  sail  for  Eng 
land  to  take  possession  of  their  small  estate  in  Buck 
inghamshire,  where,  as  the  humblest  and  happi 
est  of  all  lords  and  ladies,  they  expected  to  build  up  a 
little  paradise. 

Every  one  of  us  was  sorry  to  have  them  go,  and 
each  of  us  gave  them  some  little  memento:  the 
butcher's  present  was  a  beautiful  new  cleaver  of  the 
best  steel. 

"  This  sort  of  thing,"  he  said,  "  comes  very  handy 
in  the  kitchen." 

And  then  speaking  to  me  in  an  under  voice  he  re 
marked  : 

"  They  say  that  sharp-edged  tools  cut  love,  but  there 
are  cases  when  this  does  n't  matter." 

The  four  captains  brought  queer  things  which  they 
had  picked  up  in  distant  lands,  and  Griscom  Brothers 
put  a  little  oyster  pie  in  a  tin  can  and  told  them  they 

188 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  189 

must  think  of  him  when  they  ate  it  in  their  own 
house. 

"  I  do  not  need  anything,"  said  Dolor,  "  to  make 
me  remember  the  ghost  who  used  to  leave  pies  at  my 
door. " 

"  I  have  n't  anything  that  will  do  for  a  memento/' 
said  Alwilda ;  "  but  I  will  paint  your  portraits  from 
memory  and  send  them  to  you." 

"  May  the  ship  sink  that  carries  them ! "  muttered 
the  butcher. 

The  day  after  the  departure  of  Lord  and  Lady 
Crabstairs,  Doris  and  I  walked  down  to  the  shore  to 
look  at  our  ship. 

"  Do  you  know/7  said  Doris  to  me,  "  that  I  am  very 
much  afraid  the  Merry  Chanter  will  never  sail  again. 
I  don't  believe  the  highest  kind  of  tide  will  lift  her 
now.  She  must  have  become  a  permanent  portion  of 
the  earth's  surface." 

I  had  long  been  waiting  for  an  opportunity  to 
assert  myself,  and  to  make  plain  to  Doris  the  value  of 
my  opinions  and  my  decisions.  I  considered  such  action 
as  due  to  my  personal  dignity,  and  had  only  postponed 
it  because  no  proper  occasion  had  appeared  to  offer 
itself.  Now  an  occasion  offered. 

"  There  is  no  need  of  surmises  on  the  subject/'  I 
said.  "  I  have  positively  determined  that  that  ship  is 
not  fit  for  navigating  purposes,  and  that  we  must  give 
up  all  idea  of  sailing  in  her  to  any  place  whatever." 

"  I  am  glad  you  think  so/'  said  Doris,  "  because  I 
was  afraid  I  might  have  some  trouble  in  convincing 
you  that  now  we  ought  not  to  think  of  such  a  thing 
as  taking  voyages  in  our  ship.  But  what  shall  we 


190  THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 

do  with  her  ?  "  she  continued.  "  But  here  comes  the 
butcher.  Let  us  ask  him." 

The  butcher,  who  had  been  rowing  from  the  ship, 
now  ran  his  boat  upon  the  beach.  When  Doris  had 
asked  his  advice  upon  the  important  subject  under 
consideration,  he  stood  for  some  moments  holding 
his  chin  in  his  hand. 

"  I  '11  make  you  an  offer,"  he  said.  "  I  like  living 
on  board  the  schooner.  It  suits  me  first-rate.  She  's 
got  a  splendid  foundation,  and  will  stand  storms  like 
a  lighthouse.  If  you  say  so,  I  '11  buy  her  of  you." 

My  wife  and  I  retired  a  little  for  consideration. 

"  There  cannot  be  the  slightest  doubt  about  it,"  said 
Doris.  "  We  should  sell  him  the  ship,  for  it  is  of  no 
earthly  use  to  us." 

"  Very  well,"  said  I ;  "let  us  sell  it  to  him." 

THE  butcher  bought  the  Merry  Chanter,  and  with 
the  purchase-money  in  our  pockets  Doris  and  I  pre 
pared  to  leave  Shankashank  Bay  for  a  little  inland 
town,  where  we  would  set  up  a  home  entirely  uncon 
nected  with  maritime  pursuits. 

On  the  morning  of  the  day  we  were  to  leave  we 
went  on  board  the  Merry  Chanter  for  a  final  visit. 
The  schoolmaster  received  us  at  the  beach,  and 
rowed  us  to  the  ship.  As  we  stepped  on  deck  the 
butcher,  in  whitest  gown  and  blackest  hat,  received 
us  with  a  sorrowful  courtesy.  Griscom  Brothers  was 
on  board  with  the  four  old  captains,  who  had  come 
over  purposely  to  bid  us  farewell.  We  were  all  there 
except  the  lively  Lord  Crabstairs  and  the  pretty  Dolor. 
The  butcher  thought  it  proper  to  allude  to  this  fact. 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER.  191 

"  There  is  a  gap  among  us,  my  friends/'  he  said, 
"  which  we  caanot  fail  to  see.  There  are,  however, 
other  gaps,  which  are  not  visible,'7  and  he  turned  his 
face  towards  the  sea. 

Doris  walked  over  the  ship  and  bade  good-bye  to 
everything.  Her  own  old  hen,  followed  by  a  brood  of 
now  well-grown  chickens,  came  clucking  towards  her, 
doubtless  remembering  former  dainty  repasts.  The 
other  poultry  crowded  about  her,  hoping  to  be  fed,  and 
the  sandpiper  ran  along  the  rail  by  her  side,  his  little 
eyes  sparkling  with  the  expectation  of  a  crumb. 

She  walked  to  the  bow,  and  looked  over  at  the 
wooden  figure-head. 

"  Grood-bye,  dear  Merry  Chanter,"  she  said.  "  When 
ever  the  winds  are  high,  and  I  know  there  is  a  storm 
on  the  coast,  I  shall  think  of  you  bravely  breasting 
the  waves  that  rush  in  from  the  sea,  and  shouting 
your  bold  sea  songs  out  into  the  storm." 

The  butcher  insisted  upon  rowing  us  to  the  shore. 
As  we  bade  him  farewell  he  cordially  invited  us  to 
pay  him  a  visit  whenever  we  felt  like  breathing  a  little 
sea  air. 

"  When  you  are  fixed  and  settled,'7  he  said,  "  I  want 
to  send  you  —  a  —  not  exactly  a  present,  but  some 
thing  to  remind  you  of  this  part  of  the  world." 

THREE  months  after  this  there  came  to  our  new 
home  an  enormous  box,  which  gave  rise  to  more  cu 
riosity  in  Doris  and  myself  than  we  had  ever  felt  in 
regard  to  any  package  in  any  shape  or  size.  When, 
after  an  infinite  deal  of  pains,  the  cover  had  been 
forced  off  and  some  wrappings  removed,  there  we  saw 


192 


THE    MERRY    CHANTER. 


the  Merry  Chanter,  unbolted  from  the  bow  of  our 
ship,  and  sent  by  the  butcher  to  us. 

When  Doris  saw  it  she  burst  into  tears. 

"  He  shall  be  our  household  god,"  she  said.  "  As 
long  as  we  live  he  shall  stand  in  our  home." 

He  stands  there  now. 


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LIBRARY,  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  DAVIS 

BookSlip-50m-9,'70(N9877s8)458--A-31/5, 


N?  811058 

PS292? 

Stockton,  F.R.          Uk 
The  Merry  Chanter. 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


